


There's No Guarantee (That This Will Be Easy)

by foundfamilyvevo



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Gen, Magical Realism, Multi, OT5 Friendship, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-12 12:46:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 59,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2110437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foundfamilyvevo/pseuds/foundfamilyvevo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn studies him for a long moment. Louis hopes he hasn't guessed wrong, because he's actually starting to like Zayn and now Zayn thinks he's a nutter, probably.</p><p>"Yeah." It's barely more than a whisper. "We're having the same dream."</p><p>Or, Zayn and Louis are married, Liam is doing his best, Harry maintains some semblance of being okay, and Niall is what brings them all together.</p><p>Or, five boys all have the same dream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So after eight months of me complaining non-stop to anyone who would listen, THIS IS FINISHED. Huge s/o to my beta-reader and supporter B tumblr user littlepetlouis, for removing more unnecessary commas than anyone should ever have to, and to my bffl Fay for watching This Is Us with me even though they don't like this band. (edit: ALSO MY FRIEND SCOTT. thanks for pointing out that one thing. you know the one)
> 
> [!Warning for some discussion of anxiety throughout!]
> 
> Disclaimer: This is based upon stage and media representations of people provided to me and doesn't say anything about the actual people in question, who I have no rights to. In saying this, please don't send this work of utter fiction to anyone it involves! Thank you :")

 

The first is sharp and something about him says silver, says blades, says _I won't let you hurt me and I won't let anyone hurt you_. His hair is light and fine, and he's sort of dazzling, in a way, not unlike looking into a projector. His eyes, contrasting with his bright presence, are narrowed, evaluating and protective.

The second is bathed in a warm glow that resonates in his skin. It's not a starry, distant light like the first one – it's warmer than that, more vulnerable. Niall remembers getting home late at night to find his father had left the entryway light on; it spilled, in a faded sort of way, across the path and onto the street. This boy embodies that light. His hair is thick and golden brown. His eyes, smiling though his mouth is not, say _welcome home_.

Then there's the third. He's rougher, but he's softer, too – all angles across his jaw, but a soft, warm way that he observes. Something about his slender, cut form offers an embrace, understanding. He stands in the middle, a quiet figure, blending the others together like an artist with paint, a colour scale.

This one is all wide, welcoming smile. Combined with his droopy eyelids, slouched posture, and tussled blanket of curly hair, he has the appearance of someone who has just woken up from their life's most refreshing nap. He bears smears of mud up his arms like hugs from an old crush; bashful and warm. The way he looks at Niall contains no malevolence or judgement, no suspicion or fear. If anything, a gentle curiosity, bordering on an invitation.

And the last... the last, he realises, isn't there. Or rather, the last is no one. There is no last.

He doesn't understand why standing as four they look incomplete, almost lonesome, clinging to each other all the more for this undefined thing that they lack. His instinct is to help.

How, he's not entirely sure – until the rough, gentle one reaches for him, the sleepy one murmurs, "Hiii," and his smile impossibly grows wider. The sharp one huffs, says, "About god damn time," as though he's not wrapping Niall in a hug tight enough to suffocate a small animal. They gather around, a barrier of safety, a house constructed of people and love where he simply fits. There are arms across his shoulders, a hand in the small of his back, a face nuzzling into his neck, and straight across from him the gently golden one, who smiles at Niall like nothing Niall has ever seen before, his eyes disappearing in his happiness, cups Niall's face and says, "We'll find you."

"It's time for school," says one of the others, shaking him. "Come on, Niall, wake up!"

He sits up with a start. His brother shakes his head and turns to walk out the room. "You sleep so heavy," he calls as he closes the door.

Niall's beginning to lose the dream already; it's slipping away from him like water through his fingers. He feels empty and sad, rare emotions for him, so it must have been a happy dream. He finds it hard to focus on getting up, instead trying to recall more than the feeling of a smile and a warm glow.

 

While Niall is being shaken awake, a good distance away Liam fades out of the dream more slowly, his grip on the other boys morphing into a grip on his duvet, the sight of bright blue eyes becoming different bright blue eyes.

A fluffy cheek on his and a light lick to the nose prompts him fully back to the waking world, but as he grudgingly gets up to let the dog out, he finds the dream staying with him. He can still see a tuft of blonde hair, shining blue eyes staring at him in happiness, and something Liam really doesn't want to call love.

He unlocks the back door, and the puppy goes running out, tail wagging happily. Liam blearily wonders if life would be simpler and less full of imaginary, heartache-inducing boys if he were a dog.

"Morning," he says, running a hand through his bed hair as he enters the kitchen.

"Morning, Liam," his mum replies, her focus on the frying pan she's holding. Ruth is already sat at the table finishing homework, eating a bowl of cereal, and talking on the phone all at once.

"How'd you sleep, love?" his mum asks, handing him a plate of eggs, and he takes it with a mumbled thanks as he leans against the bench.

"Had a strange dream," he replies honestly. "There was this boy, bluest eyes I've ever seen – "

"Hold on," his sister says to the phone, and she addresses him, grinning, "What? Dreamy blue-eyed boys? What's happening, Li?"

Liam's face burns and he mumbles, "I wasn't talking to you."

She rolls her eyes and says to the phone, "Hi, yeah, sorry, Liam's telling us about some fit blue-eyed boy he's been dreaming about... No, I mean, he didn't _say_ that, but I'm fairly sure he was fit." She pauses. "Liam, Bec wants to know if he was fit 'n' if he was, can she have dibs?"

Liam grumpily stuffs eggs into his mouth and refuses to answer.

Ruth smirks. "Reckon Liam's got dibs already, Bec, sorry."

 

"D'you believe in prophetic dreams?" is actually not the weirdest greeting Zayn's ever given his friends upon arriving at the school gates. He loves them more for it when they start responding right away, like he asked who was free after school. It prompts a half hour discussion that follows them into homeroom, featuring two nearly spilled coffees and one permanent marker line drawn on Zayn's face for disagreeing with Ant.

Things quiet down when the teacher comes in. Danny leans across to ask him in a whisper, "Any reason?"

Zayn pauses, gaze on his sketchbook, his eighth attempt to get the shading right in a pair of wide blue eyes. "Nuh," he answers. "Just thinking, yeah?"

Danny gives a murmur of understanding, and things carry on as they were, but the gnawing in Zayn's chest only seems to deepen.

 

Louis is distracted all day by memories of the dream. It's coming back to him, gradually, in fits and spurts. He forgets to snark at his history teacher when he comes into class, runs into two people walking to lunch, and entirely misses being called on in English. By the end of the day, he's very ready to go home.

"Louis?" asks his English teacher, as he goes for the door. He stops with a heavy sigh.

"Yes, miss?"

"Just checking everything's alright," she says.

He knows that she means at home, with his mum and his sisters. He shrugs. "Sure."

"Okay," she says, and he takes it as permission to leave. His mind drifts almost immediately back to the boy with the crooked teeth and the blue eyes, how _right_ it had felt to be with him and the others. The fact that he can't stop thinking about it is weird enough; normally he forgets his dreams within minutes. It would be frustrating, except that thinking about it makes him feel a tiny bit better.

 

Harry curls his fingers into the grass, eyes squinted almost closed as he watches the clouds pass overhead. It's not too cold, though it's getting closer as evening comes around, and he tries to let himself sink into the ground like he normally does. All he can think of is this boy, smiling like there's nothing happier in the world, blue eyes shining, warm arms all about them.

He knows he has a tendency to dwell too much on...well, on everything, but dreams especially. Always wondering at their meaning. This one was so vivid he can remember the details of the little houses around them, a village different to their own; he can remember the exact way the boy's hair stood and the angle of his teeth.

A breeze plays at Harry's cheek. He closes his eyes. He's physically aching with loneliness, with missing this person from a dream. It's like part of him, the part that helps him to smile without trying, has disappeared.

 

Niall's almost nervous to go to sleep that night, lying in bed and deliberately breathing deep. If he doesn't have the dream again, it was just a dream, and it was no big deal. If he does, it's not like it was a nightmare. He's got nothing to worry about.

Still, considering he normally drops right off to sleep, it takes him awhile to relax, tossing and turning.

 

_It's them!_ It's them. Niall feels himself dash forward, colliding with their blurry and warm presences, crowding in to hold him tight and safe. It's so vivid and real, their fingers gripping his arms, their smiles, their eyes – Niall is breathless and so, so happy.

 

Waking is hard for all of them.

 

"You alright, love?" Liam's mum asks as he comes down for breakfast the next morning. "You seemed a bit out of it yesterday."

"I'm fine," Liam reassures her. His homework had used the word ' _blue_ ' that evening and he'd had to take a break, resting his head on the desk and giving himself a moment to sigh. "What worried you?"

She frowns. "You seemed... ah, well. We mums, we worry." She pats his cheek. "Tell me if there's anything bothering you, yeah?"

"Yeah," he replies, smiling at her. "Of course."

 

Harry is more than slightly wet-eyed when he wakes up from what must be the third or fourth dream in a row. The inside of his nose burns as he swipes the tears from his face. He tries not to be embarrassed; he's allowed to have feelings, he reminds himself sternly, there's no shame to be had in crying. He's settled into a serious state of heartache, though, so bad that even the older women at the bakery noticed, fussing over him and doting on him and finally insisting he went home.

Now, it's Sunday morning, and having had a good (if quiet) cry, Harry feels more relaxed. The emptiness in his chest is still there, but it's not as tense anymore.

 

"Are you still drawing eyes?" asks Danny as he sits down next to Zayn. "I thought you'd be over it by now."

Zayn shrugs. He considers showing him the rest of the sketches, the ones of the smile and the hair, but he thinks better of it.

"Zayn, mate," Danny says, his voice turning serious and slightly quieter, "do you have a crush?"

Watching the way his brow knits, Zayn's not sure what the answer to that is. Is it a crush? Is it possible for it to be a crush? Are there logistics involved in dating someone you only meet in dreams, even if you're sure you're consistently going to meet every night? Actually, as he's considering that, there's a good chance that there's something wrong with him, and guilt stabs him just inside the rib cage, and – Danny interrupts. He's great at that, interrupting Zayn's self-berating, spiralling thoughts.

"They're getting better," he says. Seeing Zayn's confusion, he elaborates, "The eyes. They're looking really good."

"Oh." Zayn turns to look at the page, trying to see it from an outside perspective, without the references, the association. Too late, he remembers to say, "Thanks," but Danny's already moved on, talking to one of the others. Overhearing a glimpse of their conversation (exams, their science teacher, wishing it were spring already) he feels, for the first time, like he's not quite with them anymore.

 

Louis buries himself in bed, refusing to get up at any of his sisters' requests. He wants some time to himself, to think, get his head on straight about this boy and these dreams. It's been happening for over a week now, is all, and it's beginning to tail after him and make it hard for him to do anything. He told his mates from school that he was getting ill, which gives him a few days to be moody without bothering them. He runs his hands over his face, tries and fails to resist yawning, and pulls the blanket up over his head.

School passes in such a blur that he barely remembers any of it, and upon stepping out of the gates, he marvels at the fact that he feels like he only just stepped in. He can't go home like this. He has things to do; homework, chores, looking after sisters, convincing mothers that he really is alright and really hasn't got the flu.

There's only one solution to something like this, and that solution is coffee.

The smell of the cafe is one of Louis's favourites. He has to go by bus because it's a good way across town, but it's always worth it. They keep the interior nicely lit, not too bright, not too dark, with tables and chairs more inside than out. At this time of day it's buzzing with people, but when he comes here on a Sunday afternoon, he can sit in complete silence and stare for awhile, which is something he very rarely has time to do.

He has to duck around and under things and past people to get to the queue; he's nearly there when something stops him.

At one of the few empty tables, someone has left a book. When he gets closer, he sees it's a sketchbook, full of scribbles and loose lines, and in particular – in watercolour and pen and pencil and black and white – eyes.

Eyes that Louis recognises.

"Uhm," says a mumbly voice behind him, "hi?"

Louis spins around.

There's a boy, striking even in his awkwardness, nice eyes (dark and confused) framed by thick eyelashes. He's sort of withdrawn and looks nervous, so Louis's first instinct is to make him relax.

"Hi," he replies, sitting down and gesturing for the boy to sit opposite him, so the sketchbook is between them. "I'm Louis, Louis Tomlinson. Pleasure to meet you. Your name is?"

The boy looks at him strangely before answering, "Zayn."

"Well, Zayn," says Louis, clasping his hands together, "I was looking at these drawings. Real pretty, did you do them?"

Zayn clears his throat and nods, looking off to the side. "Uh. Yeah."

Louis sits forward in his seat. "Any particular inspiration? Based on anyone?"

Shrugging a shoulder, Zayn mumbles something.

"Sorry?" Louis's heart is going very fast. "Didn't quite catch that."

"It's silly," Zayn repeats, only slightly louder.

"Great! I have, like, three degrees: a Master's in silly and PhDs in ridiculous and rubbish," says Louis, and Zayn cracks a smile. It's a very nice smile. Louis feels accomplished.

"Guess it can't hurt to tell you, since I don't know you anyway," Zayn sighs.

"Exactly," says Louis. His hands are sort of clammy.

"Been having, dreams, like, about this guy," says Zayn, one finger tracing the rings of one of the eyes, "all I can really think about. I remember the eyes best."

Louis is so excited he can barely breathe. "Knew it," he mutters. "Five quid."

Zayn blinks. "Sorry?"

"I bet myself five quid and I won. Owe myself a coffee."

Zayn's eyes drop to Louis's hands, empty, and he says, "oh, d'you want me to get you something?"

It's not a hard thing to recognise the tone of someone who's offering something they can't actually give when you know how to look for it. Louis waves him off. "Thanks, not in the mood now though. I've got a feeling we're about to discuss something very odd. And important."

Smile starting again, head tilted, Zayn says, "Well, alright then. Fire away."

Louis leans closer across the table, and Zayn mimics him. Their noses are very close together. "I think we've been having the same dream."

Zayn arches an eyebrow. It's very attractive. Like, objectively, Louis adds to himself. Anyone on the entire planet would admit that that was attractive. "Y'reckon?"

"Seriously." Louis nods. "Do you have that same thing, like. There are other people there, in the dream, besides the kid. There's him and there's other people there with you. And when you wake up, you've got this emptiness inside you, like you had a kitten killed or somethin'."

Zayn studies him for a long moment. Louis hopes he hasn't guessed wrong, because he's actually starting to like Zayn and now Zayn thinks he's a nutter, probably.

"Yeah." It's barely more than a whisper. "We're having the same dream."

 

Zayn still feels strange as he walks home, unusually conscious of everything: the number of steps he takes and the feel of the biting, chilly air on his skin, the weight of his phone in his pocket. The urge to call Louis – or even text – buzzes in him.

It's weird to have someone else know. Zayn doesn't think of himself as particularly secretive, but he doesn't like feeling like an idiot, so if something's silly and he _knows_ it's silly, he prefers to keep it to himself.

It's very blue-skied, the rain feeling far away now that it's not right there. He feels the same about Louis.

Zayn doesn't get along with a lot of people. He has his mates, the Riachs, and the other art kids, but it takes a long time and a lot of effort for him to connect in that way, for people to understand him.

Louis, though...Louis was easy. He's funny, and when Zayn mumbles or says something awkward, something that doesn't make sense, he swoops in and rescues the conversation from itself.

Coming inside, Zayn calls hello and goes straight upstairs. Landing with a flump on his bed, he pushes his sketchbook to the side and pulls out his phone.

_From: Arty Kid  
To: The Tommo_

_So...that really happened right? Aha :)_

Everything feels bigger. Instead of this being a weird thing happening to him, inside his head, a psychological battle where he's not sure what he's fighting, it's become... something. He's not sure what.

_From: The Tommo_  
To: Arty Kid  
Bloody hope so! Sleep well.

 

He feels so safe, so happy and warm – people are touching and hugging him and that's okay. He's afraid, somehow, of their inevitable separation, but it doesn't seem to be coming. The blue eyed boy is rubbing a firm hand over Zayn's back – Zayn is holding hands with someone else, and someone else again has their arm around his waist.

He can almost feel the physical pull of waking up. Instead of fading out of the dream, it's like tug-o-war, two lives that he leads swinging back and forth, until he's sitting up, hands clutching his blankets, an ache already settled inside his bones.

It's more vivid than ever, details sticking with him minutes after waking. It's fairly clear outside, and while normally that would make him happy, all he feels is jealous. He wishes a thick fog would cover the whole world so that it would be more like his mind.

 

Louis is remembering more from the dream than ever before. What's so exciting is that, while the blue-eyed boy was his focus, he remembers Zayn. A glowing, different Zayn, but Zayn all the same. He clung to the dream with that, tried to keep them all together for as long as he could, but once one of the others was gone, they all followed.

 

Louis messages Zayn as soon as he has time, on the bus on his way to school.

_From: The Tommo_

_To: Arty Kid  
hey were you more awake last night or was that just me, i felt like i could see you as well as him? Message me back :'(_

_  
From: Arty Kid_

_To: The Tommo  
Yea it was weird but also cool. I tried to stay but I couldnt hold onto it :(_

 

He thinks about it all morning, barely says hi to his mates. As soon as it hits free period, he goes outside to the back of one of the buildings, a little hollow between the wall and the classrooms that no one really uses, and phones.

It rings a few times. He gets kind of nervous for a moment, but there's a click, and Zayn lets out a strangely long breath over the receiver. "Hey," he says.

"Hey," replies Louis. "You're not in class?"

"Nah." A pause, then another big exhale. "You're not either. I mean, I'm assuming."

"Free period." Louis shifts, sits down and pulls his knees up to his chest, back to the wall.

"Mm." Zayn gives another long, drawn-out breath.

Louis frowns, starting to make sense of it. "Are you... are you smoking?"

Zayn hesitates. "Yeah," he answers after a moment. He sounds... nervous? Embarrassed? Shy? But there's an edge to his tone, something Louis can't pin down.

"Are you free this afternoon?" Louis asks.

"To get married?" says Zayn. "Absolutely. Where d'you wanna meet?"

Wind snaps at Louis's cheek as he laughs. It's still freezing cold, even with the sun out. "Not my house." Zayn doesn't say anything. Louis hopes that didn't sound like he doesn't want Zayn there. "You wait til my sisters meet you," he continues," I'll never hear the end of it. You'll walk in and they'll all fall in love with you on the spot, and then they'll all like you better than they like me."

Zayn laughs, low but not as soft anymore. "I can't help my own charisma," he says. "Tiny kid sisters can't resist me."

There's a beat of silence. Not quite uncomfortable – a step away from pensive, if anything.

"So," says Louis, keeping his tone light, "we could meet at yours?"

"Oh, no," says Zayn, and Louis's heart sinks until he adds, "I'd like to have you, but the girls, they have a friend over. How about the park? The one down Flaxton."

Louis knows that park fairly well. When his family used lived in a flat closer to that part of town, he would take the girls there all the time. It's not the best park ever, but it's got a swing and a slide and a see-saw. Kids don't need a lot more than that to be happy. "Sure," he replies, "sounds lovely."

"Alright. See you then, yeah? After school?"

"Yep." Louis pauses. "Bye."

"See you," Zayn murmurs, and hangs up.

 

When Louis arrives at the park, Zayn is sitting on the swingset, a cigarette in his hand as he breathes out two lungfuls of smoke. His gaze is on his toes, drawing a pattern on the ground, and something in Louis's chest relaxes, something he hadn't realised was tense. He feels like he could cry, which is not a feeling he experiences very often, he must admit.

"Hey," he says, lifting a hand in greeting.

Zayn's face splits into a grin, and he waves back with his cig hand, "Y'alright?"

Louis can't help but smile back. "Yeah," he replies, "you good?"

Zayn nods and gestures to the swing beside him. "Ready to be wed." Louis sits down.

"Good t'see you," sighs Zayn. His free hand hangs between them, fingers curling in slightly. His hands aren't delicate, but they aren't toughened. His fingernails are a carefully filed length, but they're dirty underneath. Louis realises he's staring when he starts to analyse the angle of Zayn's wristbones. He looks up, and their eyes meet. Instinctively, he feels defensive, but Zayn's expression is open and soft, and Louis has known this boy for all of two days and he wants to tell him his worst fears, wants Zayn to come to his house on weekends after school. Something about Zayn is safe, and Louis feels like he doesn't have to be fierce and snarky and funny – like Zayn will like him anyway.

"So," says Zayn, "d'you have a favourite superhero?"

 

"I haven't seen as much of you lately," Zayn's mum comments, as he's helping her do the dishes. "Been busy, yeah?"

"Yeah, have been," he says, trying to keep his tone light as he puts his plate in the dishrack. He and Louis have been together almost every day for the past two weeks, watching movies and trading comics and talking about the dream (and pretty much anything other than the dream). "I, uh. I've got a friend picking me up tonight."

She grins. "One of the girls?"

"No, no," he quickly shakes his head. "No."

"Oh. Is it the Riachs?" She's watching him now, benevolently suspicious.

"Nah." Zayn clears his throat. "You haven't met him. We met a few weeks ago."

A genuine smile spreads across her face. "That's great! At a school thing, or?"

He doesn't know what to tell her.

Before the pause is too long, the doorbell rings, and she says, "Oh, I'll answer it," without giving him a chance. He follows her, heart lurching. He knows this isn't like bringing a girlfriend home, but he's still nervous. Louis can be a bit much for some people, and he wants this to go well, wants them to get along.

She opens the door, and there's Louis. The first thing Zayn notices is the way he feels more at ease, straight away. The second thing he notices is a box of chocolates in Louis's hands, and his stomach flips. He catches his mother glancing at him, eyebrows raised, and then Louis is talking.

"Oh, you must be Trisha!" he says, and offers her the chocolates. "Hope these are nice, they were the only ones I could get in fair trade."

Zayn's mum immediately holds up her hands, "Oh, no, I couldn't," but Louis forces the box on her, in a polite way.

"I'm Louis Tomlinson," he introduces himself.

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you," she says, holding the box of chocolates to her side. "You're Zayn's mate, right?"

"That's right," Louis agrees, and something between his tone and posture and expression reads as pride. Zayn's face feels hot.

"Would you like to come inside?" offers Zayn's mum.

The next half an hour is a mess, but a successful one. Zayn finishes the dishes as Louis regales Zayn's mum with stories of his four younger sisters. He's still himself, still chatty and funny and friendly, but he's so polite, and mature, and thoughtful and Zayn wants to take him by the shoulders and demand, where'd this all come from, then?

He's honestly glad his sisters aren't home. By the time they go to leave, they're already ten minutes later than they were intending.

At last, they get into Louis's car. "You weren't flirting with my mum, though?" Zayn says, totally almost kidding.

Louis starts laughing, puts his face in his hands. "God, I was so nervous!" he says, taking a moment before he puts the keys in the ignition. Zayn feels very strange having a friend old enough to do that without a parent, even though he's not that far away from being able to do it himself. "Could you tell? Do you think I made a good impression?"

Zayn takes a moment to work the two questions out. "No. Yes."

Louis frowns. "Chocolates were overkill, maybe?"

Zayn remembers his mum's face and he smiles. "No. Chocolates were good."

They sit in silence for a moment.

"D'you think," Louis starts, and stops.

Zayn gives him some time, and then says, "Yeah, of course. You should try it." It's always enriching to make someone as funny as Louis laugh. "No, go on though. Do I think..?"

"Never mind," Louis says, shaking his head, as he moves from parking position and out onto the road. "Talk to you about it over dinner."

Zayn pauses. He looks at the curve of Louis's cheeks, the way each passing streetlight catches his pale eyelashes and makes them glow, sharp and reminiscent of their dream.

"Okay," he replies.

 

Louis is buzzing by the time they arrive at the restaurant. He's hoping, so very much, that this doesn't freak Zayn out. Louis figures if he's going to do dramatic, he's damn well going to do it right.

It's not the most expensive place in town, not by far, but a waiter still approaches them to seat them, and Zayn's eyebrows practically meld with his hairline.

"Louis," he whispers, as they're herded towards the back of the place, "you realise you've brought me out for dinner?"

"You're paying," Louis answers, and Zayn laughs – mutters, "Would've dressed a little nicer if I'd known," and that's as much fuss as he makes. So far, so good.

They're seated when Zayn says, "So. Like. Is there something you wanted to talk about?" He has that tone to his voice, that tone of _I might be breaching feelings territory, is that okay?_

Louis clears his throat. "Zayn Malik," he says solemnly. And goes down on one knee.

"Oh my god."

"Zayn Malik," Louis says, very serious as he pulls a mood ring from his pocket. It cost him, like, a pound, but he had to hunt around a few dollar shops to find one. The shopkeeper had asked if it was for his girlfriend, and he'd just smiled in reply. "Will you be the MJ to my Spider-Man? The Lois Lane to my Superman? The Catwoman to my Batman? The... uh. What's Ironman's girlfriend called again?"

Zayn has a hand pressed to his mouth, grinning ear to ear. "Miss Potts."

"The Miss Potts to my Ironman," concedes Louis. "Will you, Zayn?"

Zayn looks down at him, all soft crescent eyes and a squinted smile and hair falling into his face, and says, "you haven't even bought me food yet."

Louis's heart warms so much he feels it could burst. "This was your idea. Just take the ring, Malik, don't make me look like an idiot."

Zayn is still laughing as he takes the ring and, upon discovering it doesn't fit on his ring finger, he slides it onto his pinkie. Louis returns to his seat, and they both watch as it slowly turns dark blue.

"Relaxed," they say together, and then, to each other's amused looks, "I have sisters!"

A waiter clears his throat as he approaches them, as if he doesn't want to interrupt. "May I take your orders?"

They order, both of them going decisively cheap, and as the waiter leaves, Zayn says, "Louis?" in a tone full of... something.

Louis looks at him, sees the way he's biting his lip, the slight tilt of his head; he's twisting the ring on his finger, which has turned green.

Louis sees every word Zayn is reluctant to say, every question he's not asking.

"I hope you're reconsidering my proposal for your hand," Louis huffs, and he gets to watch in delight as the frown falls away from Zayn's face, the ring fade back to purple.

 

At the end of their meal, as they get up to leave, Louis puts several notes down on the table (notes he had worked a lot of hours to earn) and when Zayn protests, Louis hushes him.

"Do you think Miss Potts pays for Ironman's meals?" Louis asks, putting a hand on his hip.

Zayn starts on how Miss Potts is a very capable young woman who could probably buy Ironman out of house and home if that was her goal, but Louis laughs at him, and he gives up as they're walking out into the car park. The night is so cold it could almost snow, and Zayn gives a heavy shiver. Louis puts an arm around him and hurries him on.

 

On the drive home, conversation arises on its own. Zayn doesn't seem to realise it, but he's so funny and interesting that Louis can barely stop listening to him for a second, even if it's to pay attention to dangerous intersections. He's possibly a traffic hazard.

 

Arriving at Zayn's house, they sit in the idling car. Louis isn't quite sure what to say.

"Thank you, Ironman," says Zayn, eyes sparkling.

"Very welcome, Miss Potts," Louis replies. "Need me to walk you in?"

"Think I can make it three feet on my own," Zayn snorts. "Do I get a kiss goodnight?"

Louis gasps, leaning over. "On the first date?" He presses his lips to Zayn's cheek. "Scandalous."

It's a comical smack, and most of what Louis feels is the slight scratch of Zayn's stubble. He almost feels relieved, reassured that this is a safe game to play.

"Night," says Zayn as he gets out, "drive safe." Louis nods once, sees the ring on his finger go dark purple in the cold, and he's smiling to himself the whole way home.


	2. Chapter 2

Despite the anxiety catching up with him by school the next day, the way it claws at his chest and tightens his stomach making everything harder, Louis is feeling okay. In fact, he's feeling renewed and happy and alive in a way he hasn't in far too long – he knows it's because of Zayn, knows it's because all he needed was a bit of a kick in the confidence. That's probably why he sits at a different table at school when Stan is sick, instead of sitting by himself.

He waits for a break in conversation and it's Liam Payne who greets him, a confused smile on his face. That smile makes some of Louis's nerves evaporate.

"Louis, right?" he says. "What's up?"

"Is it cool if I sit here? My mate's ill." Louis tries to keep his gaze from dashing to several of the very pretty young women sitting around them, focusing instead on Liam's (admittedly also very pretty) brown eyes.

Liam looks surprised, but pleased. "Oh," he says and it might be just Louis, but he sounds kind of keen. "Sure, absolutely! I mean," he turns to the rest of the table, "if that's okay with you guys?"

The table isn't full, exactly. Liam used to be bullied quite a bit, even after changing schools, but since he took up boxing, people have treated him progressively better. Louis doesn't know if he's overanalysing when he sees dark rings under Liam's eyes.

The boys further up shrug – one of the girls glances at him and nods, slightly more definitive. Louis suppresses a smile as he slides in beside Liam, and his breaths start to come a little easier.

 

He sits with them over the next few days and some of the boys warm to him, but Liam doesn't so much, which makes Louis sort of confused and annoyed. But he doesn't pay it much mind. His life philosophy has always been that he has no time for anyone who doesn't have time for him, and not meeting his eyes when they were laughing together moments before _definitely_ counts as not having time for him.

Except for some reason, Louis keeps trying.

For the most part, the group isn't hostile. Some seem unsure of him, but Louis feels so comfortable and cheerful that of course it‘s only a matter of time before it gets him into trouble.

 

It starts small. He steals a sandwich from Liam's lunchbox the next day when Liam leaves the table for a moment, as a test, a little poke to see how he runs. Carefully, he watches as Liam returns and, instead of accusing anybody, looks perplexed and then disappointed. He sits back down without saying anything and pulls out his remaining food. Result: Louis feels guilty.

 

A few days later, he steals one of Liam's apples in front of Liam's face. Liam frowns and says, "Do you not have enough packed lunch?"

"Why?" Louis shoots back.

"Oh, just. You could have some of mine, if you wanted."

Louis actually can't tell if Liam is being genuine or quietly sarcastic. He bites harder into the apple. Result: Louis feels guilty _and_ confused.

 

The day after that, he makes a joke about how much he hates the algebra homework they have. "What kind of idiot wrote this stuff?" he says, and amongst the agreeing noises the others make, Liam's voice is small but clear.

"He probably worked really hard on it."

Result: Louis doesn't know what the hell to feel.

 

Later, he won't recall where he got the idea to set off the fire sprinklers in their particularly vicious Maths teacher's office, but the other boys at the table seem up for it. Nobody likes their Maths teacher.

The girl shrugs, tells them, "Have fun," but Liam doesn't move. He's tense and there's a crease developing between his eyebrows, and Louis has to resist the urge to try to push it away with his finger.

"Come onnn, Liam," Louis urges him, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Yeah!" agrees one of the other boys. "It'll be fun. We're not going to do any real harm."

"I don't think you should," Liam mumbles, and his lips are doing that silly pout thing that they do, and _oh, for God's sake_.

"Well, of course we shouldn't," sighs Louis, tugging at his sleeve, "not without you!"

The girls wave goodbye as they pull Liam away. He waves mournfully back.

 

Louis is irritated by the whole affair before they even make it to the mixing room. Liam won't stop frowning, and he stiffens when Louis comes anywhere near him. Louis isn't sure why the thought that Liam might not like him bothers him so much, but it does. And yet he's still calm and nice and Louis just wishes he knew what he was thinking.

So maybe he pushes Liam too much. Maybe he's kind of goading him. But when Liam finally snaps and asks, "What did I do?" he's not angry. He's sad, maybe worried, and it's not at all satisfying.

"Loosen up," Louis demands. "This is meant to be fun! You can do that, right? You can do fun!"

Liam's face goes all red and blotchy. He draws in a sharp breath, almost like he's angry, but then he says something like, "I have a book to give back to Eleanor, I forgot," and he leaves. Just like that, he turns on his heel and hurries out the door, hands clenched tight by his side like some sort of cartoon character.

"Sorry about him," says one of the boys. "He gets so goody two-shoes about this stuff, drives us all round the bend."

That should be something that makes Louis laugh and nod and agree, but he's already beginning to feel bad and that comment makes him mad. These are Liam's _friends_ , they should be defending him, not bad-mouthing him behind his back. Even if what they say is true.

Instead he takes a moment, then says, "Right, where were we?" All that's in his head is guilt (for nothing, he tells himself) and the desire to see Zayn.

 

Liam makes it through the rest of the school day alright. He catches himself checking his pulse on the inside of his wrist, something he used to do when he came to school afraid. Besides that, he manages just fine until he's on his way home, and then the worry and the panic and the anger all come rushing back at him.

He should have stopped them, or he shouldn't have said anything to begin with, and he doesn't understand why Louis acts this way – doesn't understand Louis at _all_. His own emotions are conflicting and painful and he starts to run, trying to take his brain off it, trying to think about something else; his burning muscles will do fine.

 

Eventually, his thoughts fall away, but he's out of breath and he doesn't feel like going much further. He's not even entirely sure he went the right way for home.

He stops at a bus stop and sits down, panting, and holding the stitch in his side. He's done. Feeling the change in his pocket, he adds it up against the price of the bus ride home. It'll cost him his morning coffee tomorrow, but right then that feels forever away.

 

Zayn's on his way to the bus stop when his phone goes off. He fumbles with his backpack zip to get it out while crossing the road, and narrowly avoids getting hit by a taxi.

"H'lo?" he answers it breathlessly, safe again on the footpath but still shaking.

"Mr Malik!" says Louis on the other end. "Exactly the man I was after."

Zayn's heart rate is slowly returning to normal. "Y'alright?"

"Fine, just peachy, love. Yourself?"

Zayn can't help but notice that Louis sounds off. Distant isn't right – annoyed and harried is closer, but doesn't quite nail it down. "Nearly got hit by a car," he answers. "Good besides."

"Aren't we all," Louis says absently. Zayn can almost imagine him, eyes narrowed, staring past Zayn, one foot drumming at the ground.

"Sure something isn't up?" he asks cautiously as he arrives at the bus stop. "Besides the usual, I mean." The only person already there looks to be about Zayn's age; Zayn nods at him, and then realises that he's fast asleep.

"Just had an awful day at school," Louis says, voice almost a sigh, his bright facade fading for a moment. "D'you want to meet up today?"

The sound of Louis's voice seems to be soothing the nausea in Zayn's stomach. He leans back against the seat and instead of answering, he says, "We have to talk about this."

There's silence on the other end for a long moment.

Finally, his voice whiny, Louis says, "Do we _have_ to?"

Zayn's mouth twitches, an involuntary attempt at a smile. "Yeah, reckon so, mate, sorry."

"Can't we do it when I see you?" Louis suggests, somewhere between hopeful and evasive.

"Bro," says Zayn, "we always say we're going to talk about it, but we don't."

" _Ugh_ ," says Louis. Then, "you go first, since you're so keen."

Zayn feels his box of cigarettes in his pocket and considers lighting one for a moment. His finger rubs against his lighter, smooth and cold. It brings him back to earth. "We're not dating," he says at last. "Right?"

"Right," Louis agrees, sounding reassuringly certain.

"Okay. Cool." Zayn huffs out a breath. "Like, you get why I had to ask, right? Like you did propose to me the other night."

"You still wearing the ring?" Louis's tone is cheeky. "Bet you are."

Zayn studiously ignores him, but he does glance at the ring and notice it turning red.

(That day at lunch, Ant had seen it and said, far too loudly, "Zayn, is that a mood ring?"

After being laughed at by the entire table full of hipster art kids, it got passed around and everyone tried it on, comparing moods and colours. Zayn hadn't been so cool since fifth grade.)

"Okay," says Zayn again. "Not dating. Friends?"

A pause, long enough to make him nervous. "Friends," Louis confirms, voice odd. "If you want, I mean."

"No, yeah, I do," Zayn assures him quickly. "Friends is good. Though, like, I'm not sure that we're, uhm. Normal."

"Zayn," says Louis gravely, "I hate to break this to you, but like. I'm really not normal. At all."

Zayn laughs. "Couldn't've guessed. Not, like, us as _people._ Us as in _together_. God, you make my job so hard."

"Is that all I am? Am I just work to you?" Louis whinges.

"Course not," answers Zayn lightly. "I'm not being paid for this. Sadly."

They laugh together.

"Look, bro, my bus is here," says Zayn, seeing the light approaching from down the street.

"Alright, I'll let you go then," Louis sighs. There's shuffling on his end. "D'you think." He falters, and then tries again, "Can I call you back? Tonight?"

Zayn feels his gut clench at how quiet Louis is. "Sure, mate. Any time."

"Right." Louis sounds relieved. "See you, then."

"Bye, yeah, bye." Zayn hangs up as the bus pulls in. He's about to get on when he sees the other guy, still fast asleep. "Hang on, sorry," he calls to the driver and approaches the boy.

He's careful – he knows how much he hates being woken up and doesn't fancy a black eye. "Uhm. Hey, mate." He gives the guy a gentle shake of the shoulder. "Hey, wake up a sec."

Blearily, his eyes open. "Uh," says the guy.

The bus driver makes an impatient noise.

"Dude, is this your bus?" Zayn prompts.

"650," the guy mumbles, eyes already closing again.

Zayn checks the bus number. "Okay, mate, come on," he says, pulling the guy's arm and heaving him up. "You're not drunk, are you? Not gonna vom all over me?"

"Got one kidney, can't drink." The guy's voice is muffled as he rubs a hand over his face, but the answer sounds honest enough.

Zayn practically drags him over to the bus and pays for both their tickets. Then they move to the seats. The boy sits down, and Zayn lets go and does the same. The guy is finally waking up and he look positively mortified.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," he says, voice panicked. "Oh, my god, I can't believe this, I'm so sorry-"

Zayn interrupts him. " 'S all good, man, don't worry 'bout it. I'm a heavy napper, too." Something about this boy is endearing – he's still obviously sleepy and he's giving Zayn suspicious eyes.

"I'll make it up to you, promise," he decides, and then offers his hand. "I'm Liam."

"Zayn," Zayn replies and shakes it. "It's _really_ okay."

Liam's apparently having none of it. "Do you drink coffee? I don't think you go to my school but I could have someone bring you some, wherever you go."

Given no other choice, Zayn sorts the logistics, finding out a tiny bit about Liam along the way (he has at least one older sister, he boxes, he used to go to Zayn's school but he transferred out the year before Zayn moved here because he was being bullied, and he doesn't hold himself in the highest regard).

"Oh, this is my stop," says Liam, getting up. He winces a bit, like his legs are sore. "Thanks again, Zayn!"

Smiling, Zayn waves him off and feels almost like he's made a friend.

 

Louis takes the steps two at a time to his room, phone in his hand. He's finished cleaning the kitchen and doing the dishes; he can't bring himself to dry and put away all the washing up, so he's stacked it in the drainer and guiltily pinkie promised himself he'll deal with it first thing in the morning.

Sitting cross-legged on his bed, he waits for Zayn to pick up. His _Most Improved_ football trophy stares at him from his windowsill – it makes him feel bad, sometimes, for reasons he doesn't quite understand, so he does his best to avoid thinking about it.

"Hey, babe," says Zayn, and his voice makes Louis relax, the tenseness he didn't realise was in his shoulders slipping away. "Y'all good?"

"Yeah," says Louis. "Dandy. You?"

"Alright," answers Zayn, in a way that says _not actively bad_.

Louis lies down.

"D'you think," Zayn starts, and breaks off.

"Must we always begin conversation this way?" Louis asks mournfully.

Zayn proper, full-on giggles. Louis kind of wants to pinch his cheeks.

"You go, then, go on," Zayn protests, "I started earlier."

Louis remembers, of course he does. He wonders whether Zayn is wearing the ring, what colour it is. He clarifies, "Okay. Friends, not dating, but sort of weird, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"D'you reckon," Louis starts, and stops. The ache of separation is lessened, but this talking is making his chest tight and his voice shaky. "Do you reckon," he pushes on, "that there's like. A reason? A point to it?"

Zayn is soft. "No clue. Might be."

Louis says, "Mm."

"I'm, uh." Zayn clears his throat. "I'm gonna say something 'bout like, feelings. So, stop me if I get too... weird. Yeah?"

"Sure," says Louis. He can see a car pulling into one of the houses on his street. They're home late. He wonders what they've been doing.

"Okay, so, I looked up, like, separation anxiety 'n' stuff when I got home today." Zayn sounds cautious – like Louis feels.

"Google isn't the best doctor," says Louis, more quietly than he meant to. It was supposed to be a joke, but it didn't sound like one.

"No, I know, but like. Some of the symptoms were there." Now that Zayn's got started, it sounds like he well intends to finish. "Not enough checked to get a diagnosis, but there were definitely correlations. Do you get the queasiness at all? Like nerves, tremblin', that sort of stuff."

Louis isn't sure how to answer because on one hand, well, yeah, but on the other, they went away today during lunch at school.

"It's okay to say you do," Zayn adds, awkwardly. "Like, I get them too, there's nothin' wrong with it. I mean, there's something wrong, but like. It's okay to say so." Then, he takes a breath (at last) and continues, "Weirdest thing happened today, though, at the bus stop. I got talking to this boy, when we were on the bus today, and it cleared right up, til he left. So, like, no offense? But I'm not sure it's you. And me. Us."

"The same thing happened to me," Louis confesses. "Lunch today at school. Dunno what it was, and it didn't _go,_ it just faded, y'know?"

"Gale to a breeze sort of thing," Zayn offers, and yeah, that's it.

"You are the worst poet ever," Louis says. "That was a disgustingly cliche weather metaphor and I never want to hear the likes of it again."

"I try."

"In the. The separation thingy," Louis begins, because Separation Anxiety is scary and clinical and definitely has capital letters. "Did it say causes?"

"Not for someone you just met," Zayn replies. "We've got symptoms but none of the mental stuff. You don't worry about me absolutely constantly while I'm gone, right?"

"No."

Zayn continues, "Plenty of parental reasons, too, but I've got none of those."

Louis's stomach goes tight and cold. "Guess I have a few," he mutters, and then, more clearly, "Nothing that would affect you, though, or us. Jolly strange."

Zayn says, "Louis–" and then stops. "Hang on," he says. Louis hears him call distantly, "Alright, comin'!" and there's the sound of scuffling, then loud music, girls' voices, and then Zayn's return.

"Hang on, babe, sorry, I'm heading upstairs. Mum wanted me to come inside. Sisters."

Louis understands completely.

"Reckon we could do some homework?" Zayn suggests. "Like, for this, I mean, I could do some more Googling. I dunno if you wanna do something like that, like."

"We could work on different parts of the problem," Louis offers, "You look up how to deal with the symptoms and I'll look up, like – "

"Mutual dreams," Zayn cuts in.

There's silence. Louis had sort of figured the stuff was correlated, but to hear it said out loud is frightening. It feels too big, too big and wild and not possible

"Y'still there, mate?" Zayn checks.

"Yeah," Louis mumbles. "Look, could we talk about something else for awhile? Tell me about the new issue of Batman."

Zayn goes with it so easily, Louis could kiss him. His tone is light when he teases, "Thought you were Batman? And I'm Catwoman."

They talk for another hour.

 

Liam comes into school on Monday morning with a plan. He's actually really proud of this particular plan, proud and excited. And nervous.

He catches Louis outside the gates, texting furiously. Liam takes a deep breath.

"Hey," he says. It's uncertain and not at all how he was hoping.

Louis glances up, arches one eyebrow, and says nothing.

"I, uhm." Liam feels constricted. "Let's bunk off for a bit this morning."

Louis's raised eyebrow raises higher.

"I mean, I," Liam huffs. "I have to do something this morning and I'm gonna skip class and I was wondering if you'd like to come."

Louis's smile could be encouraging – but it could also be condescending. Liam is so, so bad at this.

"You want me to skive off classes," says Louis, "and come run errands with you?"

"Errand." Liam's face burns. "One."

"Okay!" Louis agrees, clapping Liam's shoulder. "Let's do it."

Liam stares at him. "Wait, really?"

"Sure, why not?"

Not sure where to go with that, Liam manages, "Okay! Okay. Great! Cool. Meet you out here before English, yeah?"

"Gotcha! See you then, Payno." Louis gives him a broad smile and then he waves to someone over Liam's shoulder and scampers off.

 

After Maths, Liam grabs his bag and instead of going to English, he heads to the school car park, going at a light jog. Guilt is already beginning to form a knot in his chest, coupled with the unidentified ache that's been following him around since the dream. It makes his lungs feel like they have no room to expand.

He expects someone to ask where he's going, but every teacher he passes gives him that smile, that bless-his-heart, not-the-brightest, totally-trustworthy smile. It makes him guiltier and more determined all at once.

 

Louis is on his phone, leaning on what is possibly the vice principal's car. "...single useful thing," he's saying, "it's all stuff about getting rid of nightmares or prophetic Jesus visions."

"Louis!" Liam calls, trying to feel confident and not act like he was eavesdropping (since he wasn't).

"Look, babe, gotta go. Talk to you later," Louis says, and hangs up. He looks guarded, only relaxing when Liam pulls out his wallet with the tickets.

"Ready to go?"

"When you are." Louis slings an arm around Liam's shoulders and Liam can't help the way he tenses. It doesn't feel bad, but he doesn't know what he's supposed to do about it. He clears his throat and walks, probably too fast, towards the bus stop outside school grounds.

They reach it with no adult interference and Liam stands rather than sits. He's suddenly very conscious of how scuffed his clothes are, what a mess his hair is. He's babbling some rubbish about how he got the hole in his shoe and Louis is just nodding, and God, this was a bad idea.

The first few minutes of the bus ride are awkward. Liam occupies himself trying to remember the directions to the coffee shop, which stop they have to listen for, and not being hyperaware of every single thing that Louis does. He almost jumps out of his seat when Louis breaks the silence.

"So, what errand is this, exactly?"

Liam clears his throat. "Not a huge deal. Someone did me a favour and I figured I owe him a coffee."

Louis turns to him and grins. "For real? You're skipping school, for the first time _ever_ , to return a favour?"

A hot blush creeps up Liam's neck. "Well, yeah, I mean. Yeah."

Louis slaps Liam's shoulder and gives a giggly sigh. Liam wants to smile. He puts his attention on the voiceover telling them the stop instead.

 

They get slightly lost on their way there, because Liam remembers the right stop to get off the bus but takes the wrong turn when they're walking. He takes the wrong street off a roundabout and they have to go around the block. Bless his heart, it turns out Louis is really good at reading maps and giving directions, though he claims that a map ruins the adventure – "It ruins the _fun_!"

Liam pauses at that, feels bitterly like he has something to prove to Louis, but Louis has pulled up Google Maps on his phone already, so Liam shakes the feeling away and gives the address.

 

The problem is, Liam thinks to himself as they finally walk into the car park, Louis doesn't like him, and that makes it hard to respond to anything Louis does. Even as they're heading towards the entrance to the cafe, Louis is teasing him, and right before Liam goes up to order, Louis literally bites his hand.

Far too flustered to say anything to Louis himself, Liam hurries up to the counter and stammers the order. The fact that he can recite it all even when his entire mind is focused on how Louis Tomlinson just _bit him_ is a credit to his memory.

When he comes back over, with a number to wait for clasped tightly in his hand, he hisses, "What the hell, Louis – "

"Shh," says Louis, who's in the middle of typing a text. "Hush a moment."

It's a long text message. By the time he's finished, Liam is rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, bouncing in place.

"Payno," says Louis, sounding exasperated. "What's worrying you now? You're wagging class, have some fun for once!" He emphasizes it by tugging hard on Liam's ear and for some inexplicable reason, Liam laughs.

Before either of them have a chance to say anything more, the barista calls for their order. Liam rushes to get it, and when he comes back, Louis is on his phone again, this time reading. He doesn't look up, but he follows Liam out of the shop and to the next bus stop.

"You're the worst at getting places," Louis comments as they jog to make the bus in time, due to a miscalculation on Liam's part. "Next time, I'm definitely driving us."

Liam's heart skips a beat at _next time_ and _us_ , but he pretends it doesn't. "I don't think that's a good idea," he says. "Because like, your fringe might fall in your eyes. And you'll crash, and we'll both die."

Louis stares at him for a moment. "Bless your heart," he murmurs, tone awed, "you could be joking right now or being dead serious and I wouldn't know the difference.'

"It's a dead serious joke," Liam answers immediately.

And, well. He's made people laugh before. Sure, not a lot, and often not because he meant to, but he has.

Nothing has ever felt as good as making Louis Tomlinson laugh. For a brief moment, as Louis's mouth curls into a smile and he quickly puts his hands to his face like he's physically trying to stop the giggles, Liam is the best person in the world.

"Quick, come on," Liam manages, "we're keeping the bus driver waiting, we don't want him to be mad."

"Do you think about anything other than getting into trouble?" Louis asks as he pays the bus driver entirely in change.

"Course I do!" Liam protests and then adds, "Sorry," to the driver, who shrugs it off.

"Like what?" scoffs Louis, sitting down and crossing one leg over the other.

"Like..." Liam bites his lip as the dream comes to mind. It's been taking up so much of his brainspace that he hasn't really had time or energy to think of much else.

"Hey. Earth to Liam, hey." Louis snaps his fingers in front of Liam's face. Liam bats him away and doesn't say anything more. The air definitely grows more awkward.

 

By the time they reach Zayn's school, Liam feels rubbish. They had almost been relaxed, bickering for a moment, but he blew it. Louis is probably certain now that Liam's as boring as he thought.

He sighs and turns his attention to finding Zayn.

 

Zayn has spent his entire free period in the school library on the computer. He's not having a heap of luck, but when he finds anything useful, he texts it to both himself and Louis. By the time it hits lunch, he's dying for some air, so he decides to head outside. He hasn't had a smoke all day and he knows his mum'd be proud, but god, what he wouldn't do for at least some caffeine.

His feet take him instinctively out to the school yard near the car park where only a few of the other kids hang out during break, simply because he needs some space from them. He's stretching and breathing when he sees a familiar face.

Louis looks grumpy, but fairly relaxed, and he turns in Zayn's direction. They make eye contact, and Louis half jumps, opens his mouth, and stops. Zayn can feel caution radiating off him, not wanting to overstep any limits, as this is a new playing field for them.

He smiles and approaches him.

Louis comes towards him, too, and they exchange a hug, which begins brief but extends when Zayn lets out a long breath, when Louis's hands stop patting and ease to rubbing his back. Zayn hadn't realised how on edge he'd been until now.

"You okay?" Louis asks as he pulls back, eyes narrowed.

"Yeah." Zayn huffs. "Think it's getting worse, though, like? Today's been the worst."

Louis's mouth twists. "Really? I've been okay," he admits and he bites his lip.

Zayn shakes himself. "Anyway, man, why are you here?"

"Oh!" Louis quickly turns around. "I was here with this kid from school, he had coffee for someone – "

At this point, Zayn loses track of the sentence, because he hears his name shouted in another familiar voice. He turns, feels everything falling into place as he sees Liam jogging towards him.

As Liam reaches them, he offers Zayn a coffee – from his favourite shop, right across town.

"You came all this way?"

"Yeah!" Liam is very pink. "Is it right?"

"Hold up." Louis sounds disbelieving. "You know each other?"

At the same time as Zayn says, "Met at the bus stop,"

Liam says, "How do _you_ know each other?"

Louis grabs Zayn's wrist and, holding his hand up, he points to the mood ring. "We're _married_ ," he answers, competitively. His tone has a bite to it.

One of Zayn's few social skills is sensing tension and he can feel it rapidly rise as the other two glare at each other. "Right," he says, "we should probably all do some explaining."

Liam recaps their meeting to Louis. They're all sat cross-legged on the grass inside the gates, forming a triangle of sorts. As he drinks (and honestly, he's amazed at how much it's helping), Zayn watches Liam talk, fast and eager. He watches Louis listen, eyebrows raised, making sly digs wherever he can, but leaning on Liam, too, hanging off him and hitting at him and Zayn's impressed that Liam can keep going. He looks flustered though, refusing to meet Louis's eyes.

Zayn doesn't know what to think.

When Liam is finished, he turns to Zayn and asks, "How did you and Louis meet, then?"

Zayn opens his mouth to sum it up, but Louis interrupts him with, "Ooh, this is actually quite a good story!" and launches into telling it himself. Zayn's momentarily offended, but in Louis's defense, he does tell the story much better than Zayn would have. He has them both laughing throughout – he skips over the dream and without it the story sounds far more random and comical.

"And so," Louis finishes, "here we are, happily wed. I couldn't live without him." Still perfectly serious, Louis forms a heart with his hands and says, "He completes me," making Zayn snort into his coffee. Once he's recovered, he blows Louis a kiss.

"Okay," says Zayn. "How did you two meet, then? Same school, or...?"

Louis pauses. Liam glances at him and says, "Yeah, we sit at the same table come lunch." His tone is light, but he keeps looking at Louis, as if for confirmation.

Zayn clears his throat. "Well, thanks so much," he says to Liam, gesturing with his now empty cup.

Liam brightens. "Oh, it's fine! Honest, thank you, I would've been in such huge trouble if... uh... yeah." He's looking at Louis again and faltering, so Zayn opens his arms and offers him a hug.

The initial response he gets is uncertain, but he comes forward, Liam going under while Zayn goes over. His hands are broad and strong where they tap Zayn's back and as Zayn feels a familiar warmth and calm settle inside him, a thought occurs to him in the very back of his mind.

He lets go as soon as Liam starts to pull back, which is fairly fast, but he's still mulling it over.

Louis hugs him, too, grip tight, and while it doesn't last long, their touches continue to linger – Zayn's hand on Louis's elbow, Louis's eyes on Zayn's eyes. "We're still on for dinner tomorrow, yeah?" Louis says. "My place?"

"See you then," Zayn agrees. He waves them off, watches them bicker over who gets to get on the bus first, and smiles.

Nerves are making their way back into his system as he heads to his next class. A shake in his fingers, an added effort for every breath, and a slight churning in his stomach that he can't get rid of. Remembering what their embraces felt like is all that's keeping it at bay.

 

Louis sulks for a few minutes over Liam beating him aboard, but besides that the trip back is uneventful. Back in the school car park, he and Liam exchange slightly uncomfortable goodbyes.

"Thank you for coming," says Liam, in the tone of someone thanking their friend's parents for having them over.

"It's cool," Louis answers. "I had fun."

He pats Liam's arm (doesn't miss how Liam stiffens) and he's about to leave when he gets a text from Zayn.

"Hold up," Louis calls, trying to keep his exasperation out of his tone. "Zayn wants you to have his number."

Liam smiles, a surprised smile. "Oh! Gosh," he says (he says _gosh_ ), "let me...hang on a tic, let me get my phone."

 


	3. Chapter 3

The following afternoon, Louis is separating and folding laundry in the girls' room when he hears the doorbell. His mother beats him to it (he only gets as far as peeking past the doorframe) and he feels a wave of calm wash over him when he hears Zayn's voice.

"Hi, pleasure to meet you," Zayn's saying. His head is down between his shoulders, like he's trying to make himself smaller. Louis understands the feeling. It's hard to fit into their tiny, full house.

"And you," answers Louis's mum, welcoming and friendly, but Louis can see her suspiscion, can see her sizing Zayn up.

He's dressed more respectably than usual, a clean-cut Green Lantern t-shirt and a pair of jeans with no holes in them. The mood ring, which makes Louis smile. And glasses.

Louis didn't know that Zayn needed glasses, but he's rather starstruck with them; they frame Zayn's cheeks, accentuate his eyelashes, bring something different and quieter to his somewhat fierce face.

His mum invites Zayn in and Louis continues to fold his sisters' clothes, listening hard. His mum offers Zayn water, which Zayn politely refuses, and then she offers Zayn a snack, which he politely refuses. She checks he's staying for tea, like that wasn't the whole point of him coming and like she hasn't been frantically cooking all day. Zayn says he'd love to as long as he's not imposing.

"Of course not," she assures him, "don't be silly! It's no trouble, no trouble at all." He thanks her multiple times. Then, she asks, "Is that a mood ring?"

A pause.

"Yeah, it is," says Zayn, "wore it 'cause I thought his sisters might like it."

That's it. Louis silently celebrates, because he knows Zayn has passed his mum's test with flying colours.

After that, he hears foosteps up the stairs, and Zayn calls softly, "Louis?"

Louis feels better, just like that. It's like a jumper at last when you've been chilly all day.

He comes into the hallway, a tiny shirt still in his hand, and they hug. "You alright, mate?" Louis asks. Zayn looks exhausted and relieved.

"Yeah," answers Zayn quietly. "Managin', aren't I? 'S'all we can do."

Louis's chest pangs. Zayn seems to be having it worse than him, though he's certainly not in a great state either. He trails a finger down Zayn's arm and then pokes his tummy. "Guess so."

Zayn bats him away, a small smile playing at his lips, and he mumbles, "So, room?"

Louis sighs. "I know, I've said, but it really is only – "

"A _bed_ -room, I know," Zayn says. "It's fine, man, I'm not bothered."

Louis tries not to be nervous. He tries to brainstorm snappy answers to any sympathetic crap Zayn might say, and he tries to be ready to act proud, not ashamed of the fact that he sleeps in an alcolve that's barely a room.

Upon seeing it, Zayn immediately jumps up on Louis's bed and sprawls on his side, one leg propped up.

"Erm," says Louis blankly. "What are you doing?"

Zayn gestures with his arm, a sweeping movement down the length of his body. " 'M seducing you," he explains. "Come to the _bedroom_ , Louis."

Louis starts laughing, laughs til he's doubled over, and Zayn complains, "What? Am I not sexy enough for you?" while beaming from ear to ear.

If they weren't already the world's most tactile friends (and Louis would certainly hope they're in the top ten for that), this small space forces them to be. Zayn curls like a comma, spread down the bed, and Louis rests with his back against the wall, knees up near his chest, socked toes nearly nudging Zayn's tummy. They're both on their phones, but Louis has one hand running through Zayn's hair, from his forehead to his neck, and Zayn seems to have relaxed. Louis feels awful still, especially when he sees the redness of Zayn's eyes behind his glasses.

He doesn't want to ask, but his masochistic curiosity is too strong. "Y'been having a hard time, then?" he says, quietly, and Zayn pauses – his thumb stops scrolling.

"Yeah," he answers, voice even more inarticulate and hushed than usual. "Guess so, like. Dunno." Louis sees his fingers tighten in the sheets. "I'm alright, though, it just. Got the better of me this morning."

"Oh, c'mere, love," Louis murmurs and lies down to pull Zayn in tight.

"I'm a sensitive soul," says Zayn, tone light even as his hands go to Louis's back, his forehead resting on Louis's shoulder. "Probably you've been better."

"I honestly don't know why," Louis muses. "We were both equally pitiful a few weeks ago, right?"

"I have, uh. I have a theory about that." Zayn doesn't look up. "You know Liam?"

Louis honestly has no clue what Zayn's getting at, and his heartrate still increases. "Yeah, I know Liam."

"D'you hang out at school?" Zayn combs the hair at the back of Louis's neck with his fingers. If it was anyone else, Louis would hate it, but with Zayn it is oddly soothing.

"I mean, I s'pose so," Louis says, frowning. "We sit at the same lunch table, and we have a lot of mutual friends. I'm around him pretty much all the – oh." It clicks. "No," he says, pulling away to sit up. "No, I don't think that's right. You've got it wrong."

"I tried to talk to him about weird dreams," Zayn says quickly, sitting up as well, so their legs overlap and their heads are inches apart. "He tried to change the subject...even over text he was sus, but doesn't it make sense to you? He made us feel better, I think he might be – "

"He's not!" Louis snaps. "He doesn't like me."

Zayn draws back and stares at him for a long moment. Slowly, he says, "Why don't you think he likes you?" He looks lost. "He thinks you're great."

Louis scoffs. "Not bloody likely. He's just nice, Zayn. Too nice. He's being friendly because he feels like it's the right thing to do."

"But," Zayn argues, " _dude_ , he spent, like, the whole time we hung out trying to impress you. He talks about you all the... doesn't _like_ you, what sort of rubbish is this, then?"

Louis looks at him, disbelieving. He's seen how Liam flinches away from any touch, how dubious he is so constantly, and all his life he's told himself he doesn't have time for people who make him doubt himself. He doesn't intend to start caring now. Even though Liam is very sweet, and something about him makes Louis want to shove him or throw pasta sauce in his face or shout at him for trying so hard when nobody else does. Or something. He shakes himself.

"Boys!" calls Louis's mum. "Boys, I'm serving up dinner!"

Zayn frowns and sighs. "Fine, whatever," he grumbles, going for the door, but Louis stops him.

"Hey, hey, don't be mad!" he says. "I refuse to end a conversation mad. Not allowed. Absolutely no way."

Zayn rolls his eyes. "What do you want us to do? Kiss and make up?" He can't hold his frown in place.

"Oh, great idea!" says Louis eagerly. "Shall we?"

Zayn snorts, "In your dreams," and then leans in and pushes a quick kiss to Louis's cheek. Grinning, Louis returns the favour, their shoulders almost together and a hand on Zayn's knee.

As he pulls back, Louis's mum appears in the door. She's taken aback, eyes flickering down to where Louis's hand still rests on Zayn's thigh.

"Dinner's on the table," she says, "if you wanted to come on down."

"Right," says Louis, always impressed by his own ability to sound nonchalant. "On our way!"

Zayn nods, offers a weak smile, and, when Louis's mum leaves, turns quickly back, eyes searching Louis's face. "Would you have gotten in trouble?"

"Don't know," answers Louis. He stands and jumps off the bed, holding out his hand to help Zayn down.

 

Louis's sisters are loud and all over Zayn and Louis holds back from his desire to tell them off – though he's quiet as always, Zayn keeps looking at Louis and grinning, like he can't believe they like him so much.

Louis's mum asks Zayn a lot of questions – what does he want to be? (English teacher), any siblings? (three sisters, one older and two younger), what's his racial heritage? ("Mum," hisses Louis and Zayn smiles ruefully and shrugs) (Pakistani and British), does he have a girlfriend? (no), ...boyfriend? (no, but thanks for asking).

Louis is good enough at reading his mother to know she likes Zayn. Or this presentation of him anyway, the one with the soft voice and comic book shirts and glasses. He's not sure she'd like him as much in a hoodie with a cigarette in his mouth, scuffing the toe of his beat-up joggers on the ground and occasionally sharing cheek kisses with Louis while they talk about psychic dreams.

Zayn's slightly sheepish expression when Louis's mum says, "Don't let Louis corrupt you!" suggests that he might be thinking a similar thing.

After dessert, Zayn helps clear the table, thanks Louis's mum many times over for having him, and while the girls get ready for bed, Louis sees Zayn off.

They hug outside on the pavement and Zayn lets out a shaky breath into Louis's shoulder, similar to when he's nervous and smoking. Louis rubs his back and sighs in return, "Oh, my poor boy."

"Don't wanna go to school tomorrow," Zayn says, muffled. "Feel like I'm gonna have a meltdown."

"You can make it, love," Louis assures him. "Just one more day, two lots of three and a half hours. Then I'll bus over and I'll meet you in the park. How's that sound?"

"Okay." Louis hates the fact that Zayn is hurting more than he is. He hates being helpless.

Considering it for a moment, he pulls back and works his way out of his sweater. "Here," he says, offering it to Zayn. "Might help."

Zayn stares at him and then slowly takes it. "Will you still be friends with me if I smell it?" he deadpans and Louis barks a laugh.

"We're married," he reminds Zayn. "Haven't got much of a choice."

Zayn grins and holds the sweater tight to his chest as he walks backwards down the driveway. "Have to run to catch my bus now, thanks to you."

"Love you too," Louis replies.

Zayn laughs and turns away to jog down the street. Louis waves a hand in farewell, and, shivering in the cold night air, returns inside.

 

He wakes up from the dream sadder than usual; he feels like loving so hard is sucking the life out of him. He drags himself out of bed eventually and meets his mother halfway down the stairs.

"Louis, love," his mum says, pulling him aside and making him jump, because his heart is already racing with blooming nerves. "I had to take another shift at work this evening, so I'll be home late. Can you babysit the girls? They're carpooling home from school, I'll get dinner and all, I only need you to watch them."

Louis wants to argue, but he knows that they're short on money after last night, that they need any extra work she can get. "Course I can," he answers. "Don't worry about a thing. I definitely won't let them create a nuclear bomb in the kitchen. That's not my evil plan."

She smiles, "That's my boy," and he smiles back.

 

He'd almost forgotten what he and Zayn had discussed until he reaches school and sees Liam hanging around the gates, looking concerned. Louis suddenly notices him properly, the way he holds himself and the serious, stressed look in his eyes, the birthmark on his throat. Louis tries not to try and remember Liam in any of their dreams.

He reaches him, says, "Top of the morning to you, Liam Payne!"

Liam spins around, smiles awkwardly at him as Louis slings his arms around Liam's shoulders, and.

The gnawing in Louis's chest subsides.

"Morning, Louis," Liam mumbles, swallowing. And.

Louis can't argue with Zayn now. He laughs, because if he didn't, he'd cry.

 

Liam is nervous as hell, because Louis is being even more antagonistic than usual. He snarks at Liam twice during lunch in ways that actually sting, but everyone else laughs it off, so Liam tries to as well. Even as he assures himself that Louis didn't think, didn't really mean it, he feels hot bitterness settle deep in his stomach, practically replacing the anxiety, which fades in its place.

He copes by texting Zayn. They're getting along well. Really well, actually, better than Liam remembers getting along with anyone, except maybe Andy. Zayn is friendly and clever and brilliant, and something about him makes Liam feel like things will be okay.

 

Louis has hidden Liam's schoolbag at the end of the day and won't tell him where it is, won't even give him a hint, and Liam's too tired to deal with it. In the end, it's Eleanor – bless her heart – who snaps at Louis and says, "It's not funny, mate, we're not in kindergarten anymore. You're being a twat."

Louis crosses his arms. "It's back by your locker. I put it there after you first checked, so you would've found it eventually."

How Louis managed to get it there without Liam noticing is a mystery, but Liam's relieved to know where it is. Eleanor makes Louis walk with him to get it and the journey there is spent in tense silence.

Eventually, Liam breaks it. "Look, I don't know, I guess we don't get along? And it's not fair, honest, to Eleanor and the others. I reckon we either agree to, like, co... co." His brain goes blank. "Work together or work something else out."

Louis sets his jaw and says nothing.

"For real, though," Liam pushes, "To be fair, I'm happy to be friends, always have been, but if you don't like me, I'm not gonna try and make you, and –"

"I don't don't like you!" snaps Louis.

It takes Liam a moment to work that out. "Oh." He stops walking. "Don't you?"

Louis throws his hands in the air, continues on ahead.

"No, no, wait." Liam grabs Louis's elbow and he sees surprise flit briefly over Louis's face before it's gone again. Liam huffs. "What's wrong, then?" he asks helplessly.

"Nothing!" hisses Louis and then says, "Okay, a lot. A lot, but not, it's not this."

They're getting somewhere, Liam realises in a rush. "Is it stuff at home?" he asks, trying his best to sound considerate. As always, it comes out bossy and a little harsh.

"Let me go," Louis insists. Liam does.

They stand and look at each other for a long moment.

"I think," says Louis slowly, "we need to start over."

Heart skipping a beat, Liam nods. "Okay." His voice squeaks a tiny bit. When Louis doesn't do anything else, he swallows and holds out his hand. "Hi. Uhm. I'm Liam Payne. I like Kanye West and music production. And. I have weird dreams."

Maybe holding back from laughing, Louis takes his hand and shakes it firmly. "Hi. I'm Louis Tomlinson, I like football, theatre, and making people laugh." There's a pregnant pause. "I have weird dreams too."

 

Zayn's leaving his last class when his phone starts ringing. Caller ID says Louis, so he answers right away. "Hey, babe, y'alright?"

"Yeah, I mean, sort of," Louis answers very fast, and then takes a breath. "Listen, Mum's roped me into babysitting the girls, so I can't come meet you."

Zayn's heart sinks into his boots. He pulls Louis's sweater closer around him and swallows hard. "Sure, I understand."

"Are you gonna be okay?" Louis's voice is soft and sad, and Zayn tilts his head back, fights the burning in his nose.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Should go."

"No, hang on," says Louis. He sounds bordering on desperate. "I could. I could ask if he'd meet you."

It says a lot that Zayn says who he means. He imagines bursting into tears upon seeing Liam and bites his lip. "I, uhm. I might." He breathes – Louis says, "Easy, you're alright," – "I think that might not go well, like, if he doesn't know yet. It'll seem weird to him. Can I see you tomorrow?"

"Should be fine," says Louis. "I'll check with my mum when she gets home, see that we're not busy. But it sounds fine." His voice goes quiet as though people around him might be hearing. "Will you be okay til then?"

Zayn says, "Miss Potts can last a night without Tony Stark."

He can hear Louis's grin. "Sure, Pepper. Alright, take care, then."

"You, too," Zayn sighs.

("Love you," whispers Louis.

Barely there, Zayn breathes, "Love you, too.")

 

Zayn wakes up the next morning to two things. One is Rihanna, pounding from his sister's room. Two, despair that he's awake. His head feels too heavy and his chest aches and his limbs feel like lead, like jittery lead, and he knows he's not sick.

He lies in bed for a while and stares at the ceiling, lacking motivation to move. He knows he'd feel better if he contacted Louis, organised to meet him, but he can't make himself.

His mum pokes her head in near lunchtime, whispers his name very softly, in case he was still asleep. As if anyone could sleep through _Umbrella_ playing that loud.

"Morning, sunshine," she says. "Just woke up, hey? Sleepyhead."

Zayn nods. By this point he's been awake a long while.

She sits on the edge of his bed. "Have you been alright? You've been a little off."

"I'm alright." He rubs a hand over his eyes.

She purses her lips. "Nothing weighing on you?" she checks. "Cause you know you can always tell me if anything is wrong, yeah."

Zayn wants to spill it all, wants to tell her everything, like he did when he was a kid. He wants it so much that for a moment, he has to suck his teeth to keep himself back.

"I dunno how to cope," he manages at last. "I'm tired of things being hard."

His mum lays a hand on his shoulder, small and smooth, a hand that used to be able to engulf half his head and now almost seems fragile. She gives him the _Teen Hormones Can Mess You Up, But It Will Pass_ ™ Pep Talk and for once he doesn't find it frustrating. He closes his eyes and lets himself believe for a moment that everything is that simple.

 

When she leaves, he sits up and takes his phone from his bedside table.

_From: Arty Kid_

_To: The Tommo  
Really think it would be best if we talked to Liam soon, once he's in on it everything will be loads easier, at least I think so :) x_

Then he texts Liam.

_From: Zaynnn  
To: Liam Payne :)_

_Good morning aha :) x_

_From: Liam Payne :)_

_To: Zaynnn  
Good morninggg. How are uuu? :D_

After briefly considering the truth, he decides against it.

_From: Zaynnn_

_To: Liam Payne :)  
Pretty good. You?_

Midway through writing that, he gets a reply from Louis, which reads, ' _UGH'_

After a moment, another one comes through.

_From: The Tommo_

_To: Arty Kid_

_Ok well if youre so keen YOU DO IT! I cant i have top secret busy important things to do! IMPORTANT! AM BUSY!_

Zayn laughs despite himself. Reading it is like hearing a mini-Louis yelling stubbornly in his ear.

_From: Arty Kid_

_To: The Tommo_

_Too busy to come see me? :( I don't like this secret stuff.._

Liam texts him then, and Zayn decides that fate wants it to happen.

_From: Liam Payne :)_

_To: Zaynnn_

_Im okkkk. Do u wanna meet up today? Just for hanging out or somethinggg :)_

 

When Zayn gets to the park, Liam is already waiting. Or rather, he's doing light laps of jogging around the park. That is Zayn's personal idea of hell, but Liam hasn't even broken a sweat. He smiles, all crinkly eyes, when he sees Zayn and runs over to him. He goes for a hug and then pauses, looking unsure of himself. It's endearing and Zayn already feels better being within a foot of him, so he takes the step forward and pulls Liam to him.

Liam says, "Oh!" in a happy, surprised tone and hugs him back. "Hi."

"Hey, mate," says Zayn, making himself pull back before it gets weird. "Louis here yet?"

"Not yet," answers Liam. "He told me he had to stop on the way."

Nodding, Zayn settles himself against one of the lampposts and checks the time on his phone. He doesn't have any new messages.

"So, um." Liam shifts from one foot to the other. "Are we here to like, chill, or?"

He thought Liam might ask, which is why he's silently damning Louis for being late. "It's not a big deal," he assures Liam. Then he realises he's blatantly lying and rephrases, "well, it's not a bad thing, anyway."

Liam doesn't look very comforted. Zayn can't blame him.

They're standing shoulder-to-shoulder, and their hands brush and for one moment Zayn goes to entwine their fingers. It's such an instinctive movement, he doesn't realise until the last second when he carefully pulls his hand back, fingernails almost scraping Liam's.

Louis's car pulls up and Zayn's relieved. Normally he and Liam get along fine, but with both of them this nervous, everything is quiet and tense.

As Louis draws closer, Zayn sees he's carrying coffee; three coffees. "I could kiss you," Zayn says, and Louis gives a smug smirk, turning his cheek and waiting.

Admittedly, he walked right into that. Zayn rolls his eyes and gives him a peck. Louis hands over his drink and then turns to Liam.

"Well? Where's my – oh." Louis stops quite suddenly, because Liam kisses him, more on the corner of the mouth than the cheek.

Louis hands Liam his drink.

"Hope I remembered your order right," Louis says, voice confident as always.

Liam gives a start. "Oh. Oh, I'm sure it's fine," he says and then quickly adds, "I'm sorry if, like, that was...if I shouldn't've done that. I mostly missed."

Louis grins. "Mostly?"

"Well, yeah." Liam shrugs. "It was a tiny bit on purpose." That's apparently where his confidence runs out, because he proceeds to say _sorry_ five more times.

Turning to Zayn, eyes sparkling, Louis jerks a thumb at Liam. "Can you believe the cheek?" Quite frankly, he sounds delighted.

Zayn can't help but smile. "The nerve. Unbelieveable." He shakes his head and takes a sip of his coffee. He feels happy – achy, still, but so happy. He really likes these two guys and he's relieved that they're getting along.

Louis gives them both a hug and gestures to the see-saw. "Shall we?"

Dubious, Liam casts a glance at his cup. "We have hot drinks."

This cues the most exaggerated eyeroll Zayn has ever seen from Louis. "Then we'll be _careful_."

They end up with Liam perched on one side, Zayn on the other, and Louis sitting on the bar between the two. He keeps them at a gentle rocking pace, probably out of the nervous desire to move.

"Zayn said there was something you wanted to talk to me about?" Liam prompts.

Louis shoots a look at Zayn, who shrugs. He didn't have a better option, because he's a terrible liar.

Taking this as a cue to talk, Louis sighs and turns back to Liam.

"You remember when we brought Zayn coffee?"

Liam pauses, looking to Zayn. Zayn keeps his face carefully neutral. Liam slowly nods.

"And you remember when we told you how we met?"

Liam nods again, frowning.

"That wasn't the exact truth. I mean, it was close! But..."

"It was a lie by omission," provides Zayn.

A car passes by, very loudly. "I don't even know what that means," Liam says weakly. "I'm failing English in school."

"S'okay," soothes Louis, reaching out along the see-saw to pat Liam's foot. "I dunno either. Got no clue."

"It means, like, we lied by leaving bits out," Zayn explains.

A frown spreading across his face, Louis says, "You know what, I reckon you made that up. I reckon that's a lie. Now, shut it, let me tell the proper story."

Zayn splutters indignantly and Louis ignores him, turning back to Liam. "This is a weird story," he warns. "I think you'll believe it when it's done, but it might come as a bit of a shock."

"I'm not sure what to say to that," Liam replies honestly.

"I'm going to go with it," decides Louis, and he does.

 

Liam looks from one face to the other, trying to see the hidden laughter or the conspiratorial winks. He doesn't know what to do.

"Don't freak out on us," says Zayn, joking. Maybe.

There's a thousand thoughts racing through Liam's head and it makes it hard to form sentences properly. "Can I see them? The drawings, I mean?" he asks. "I mean, if it's too personal, I get it, but. This is weird."

"You're telling us," says Louis, unusually serious. "Go on then, Zayn, show him."

Reaching into his backpack (which is really nice, Liam notices, in a distant type of way. It's a pretty cargo-ish green and it has a Superman dog tag attached to it along with a few badges for musicians Liam's never heard of), Zayn pulls out a sketchbook. Liam's heart skips a beat.

He's still expecting them to say _April Fools!_ even though it isn't April, but a part of him is starting to wonder if they're telling the truth. And if they are, why they're telling him.

Zayn stops on a page and hands the book down to Louis, saying, "There's a good few pages like this, but this is the one you saw."

"Spitting image," Louis says and Zayn grins.

Liam tells himself he's not shaking as he takes the book. Zayn's art style is loose and thick, lots of big lines and nothing erased. Upon seeing the drawing, he feels himself almost transported back to his dream, to the boy laughing and smiling, his eyes so, so blue.

"Oh," he says faintly.

Louis and Zayn both start talking, explanation and comfort and assurance he's not lost his mind all tangling together, and it feels too _real_ for Liam. He's sure that he's really here, that this is really happening, but he's pulling an utter blank on how to respond to any of it.

"Do you know who he is?" is the first of so many questions he's thinking and once he's started, he can't stop. "Why is it happening? Why does it happen in dreams? Is there anyone else? Why does it hurt so much?"

His voice cracks on the last one, and they both look taken aback. He hadn't really meant it to sound like that.

His cup of coffee is half full still when he looks down at it. He mumbles, "Sorry."

That seems to shake them; Louis barrels into his side, holding him tight around the middle, and Zayn carefully gets up and comes over to wrap an arm around his shoulders.

" 'S been hard, yeah?" Zayn murmurs. "Y'been coping all on your own."

Liam blinks and absolutely will not cry. "This is so weird," he sniffles after a moment and they all laugh, a sort of mutually baffled and sad laugh. Zayn smoothes Liam's hair and Louis whispers, "Brave, brave little Liam."

When Liam's sure he can speak without crying, he says, "Did you know that I was dreaming it, too?"

"I had a hunch," replies Zayn.

"There's so much stuff involved in this," continues Louis.

"Since neither of us are telepaths – "

"An unfortunate tragedy," Louis sighs.

"—we didn't really know for certain until now. I was pretty sure, though...you had all the same stuff as Louis did."

"What stuff?" Liam frowns.

Louis and Zayn look at each other and Liam's pretty sure they're talking with their eyes.

"Liam, there's so much to it," Louis says eventually. "I mean, we've had – how long would it be now, more than a month? – two, y'think?" Zayn's shrugging and nodding, so Louis says, "Yeah, 'bout two months We can't give you all that it one go. Your delicate brain will explode and then we'll be covered in gross bits of Liam-brain."

It's not that funny, but Liam can't help laughing. "Don't think there's a whole lot of Liam-brain to begin with, though."

Louis grins, slaps his shoulder. Realisation hits Liam then – that for Louis, that's not an angry motion. Something inside his chest goes from heavy to feather light.

"You know, in the dream," he says, "do you ever notice there's like, a barn, in the distance, on a hill?"

"Yes!" Louis exclaims. "And you're like, where the hell are we anyway? I mean, we're proper suburban out here, we are, there's farms around and stuff, but nothing like an actual red barn."

And now they're chatting about it, like it's a school subject or an old shop lady they all know, and Liam hasn't told anyone about it since he mentioned it to his mum the first day. He's frightened and really, really happy.

Louis is sort of sitting on his lap, which is not something Liam is very used to and he's also holding Liam's hand, which is somehow massively comforting. Zayn sits on the ground, resting his cheek on Liam's knee. When Zayn laughs, Liam can feel it. Liam doesn't think he's been this okay since the dream started.

 

Eventually, it has to end. Zayn has to be back home for tea, Louis wants to be around to help his mum, plus he promised one of his sisters he'd help her with her homework.

"We should come back tomorrow," Louis says. "We can, like, explain stuff more."

"I'd like that," Liam says, maybe too quickly. "To be fair, though, I am absolute rubbish at understanding, so you might need to repeat things."

Louis and Zayn exchange grins, as if Liam isn't looking right at them.

"Seriously, Liam, don't worry about it," says Zayn.

"Yeah, mate," Louis agrees, patting his cheek, "you're alright."

 


	4. Chapter 4

Harry is concerned.

Now, he's not the type of person who frets over everything; he's never stayed up late and worried about having cancer or his parents dying or any of the things he hears about kids at school doing when they're stressed.

However, he hasn't felt himself in weeks. He's worn down by something he can't identify. Sometimes it makes his hands shake (he fumbled a lot of the work at the counter in the bakery today). Sometimes it makes him nauseous and cold in the gut (at school on Friday, two classes let out into free periods at once and there were loads of people and Harry was by himself, and for about five minutes, he was fairly sure he was going to throw up). But when it's not in short, concentrated bursts like those, it lingers, sadness devouring him from the inside at a snail's pace. Harry's good at putting stuff out of his mind, but it follows him, weighs on him in every spare moment, and he's so tired of running from it.

For the first time in a long while, he's going out into the fields. His mum smiles at him and he can see the hope in her eyes as she tells him it'll clear his head. He stops himself from replying, because it'd probably be something sad and disheartening and she's only trying to help.

To his surprise, he does feel a little better being out under the sky, though his heart still races sometimes out of the blue. The ground feels like support – to him it always has – and as he enters the trees, he sinks down, first sitting, then lying in the leafstrewn grass, letting it engulf him.

 

The whole mess starts when Louis, head in Liam's lap and legs stuck up in the air, ferociously mashing his X-Box controller buttons, declares, "You know what? We should go somewhere and do a Normal Friend Thing."

Zayn leans wildly to the side, as if that'll help his character move faster. "We do heaps of normal friend – DAMMIT." His character takes a blow so bad Liam physically winces. His health bar drops by half. "This – " Zayn's teeth are gritted now, " – is a normal friend thing."

"Nooo," sighs Louis, still grinning from the move that's probably won him the round, "not a normal friend thing, a Normal Friend Thing."

"Oh, of course." Zayn's tone is sarcastic; his character warily circles Louis's around the boxing ring. "Silly me."

"I don't know," says Liam, aware he's probably signing his own execution papers, "it might be fun, like, if you've got something in mind."

"Liam James Payne," says Louis solemnly, as his character slams Zayn's in the jaw, "I could kiss you."

"A shocking turn of events," Zayn grumbles, at this point struggling to simply keep his character standing. "Never before has Louis Tomlinson kissed Liam Payne."

"Louis Tomlinson's husband needs to shut his gob and surrender!" crows Louis. He's chasing Zayn in laps now. As the resident expert, Liam has to admit that this is probably the poorest boxing he's ever seen.

"No, but _seriously_ ," says Louis, "wouldn't it be fun?"

"Depends on your definition of _fun_ ," growls Zayn. His health bar is perilously low. "You said this would be fun, now look at us."

Louis's character throws the winning punch and the words _KNOCK OUT_! flash onto the screen. "I don't see your point," he says smugly. Zayn jumps at him and, therefore, also at Liam, and there's a lot of oofing and yelping when he lands on them.

 

But that's how it starts. Before they know it, they're uncovering Liam's dad's old tents in the shed and Louis is scheduling it for the weekend when he doesn't have work and Zayn's mum sits down to budget the cost with them, since they're all awful at maths. Then they're making a shopping trip in Louis's old unreliable car, where Louis is literally told off over the loudspeaker for being a ' _disruption and potential danger to other customers_ ' and they find out that Zayn doesn't eat pork.

("It's a Muslim thing," he explains awkwardly.

Louis replies, "Okay, then, it's an us thing too."

Liam gives a firm nod and hurls the packet of smoked ham back at its shelf.).

At the checkout, Liam nearly steals a bag of apples by forgetting to load them onto the counter, instead almost carrying them out the door. Louis thinks this is the funniest thing in human history and keeps retelling it as they pack the car and drive away. He only shuts up when Liam threatens to puncture all his tires the moment they're home.

 

And somehow, that's how they all end up with backpacks full of supplies and, kissing confused but happy parents on the cheeks, they set off.

Now they're hiking through the forest, Liam carrying the most because apparently he's the buffest. He can only hope that Louis actually knows what he's doing, that this isn't one of those things where Liam says, "Are you sure?" (meaning, ' _do you have an exact plan?_ ') and Louis says, "Yeah!" (meaning, ' _that sounds like I could do it on the wing, maybe_ '). Having been friends with Louis for about a month now, Liam understands that this is the type of thing you have to be careful of.

Louis has paused up ahead, eyes narrowed as he chews at his lip. Liam's confidence isn't exactly through the roof.

 

Harry has to admit that he fell asleep; it's a nice change to sleep well without the dream haunting him as he wakes. He could always become nocturnal, he supposes.

He's about to sit up when he hears laughter, feet stomping through branches, and he stiffens. The grass around him is a decent length and he's not keen on running into anybody from school. His hair is probably a mess full of leaves and twigs. He decides to stay put until they're gone.

"This is nice, though, like, by the river 'n' stuff," says a mumbly voice. "Good noise."

"Will it flood if there's rain?" asks another voice, sounding nervous.

A snort. "Only you, Liam James Payne, could be worried about that." This is a new voice – biting and higher in pitch than the other two.

"C'mon then," says the second boy, "let's just move a few metres away, at least. Let's not actually set up in the water."

The other two sigh together, but they move the way he suggested. Harry is growing fairly concerned about his escape plan at this point. On the bright side, he's fairly sure they're not from his school, but they don't seem keen about moving on and to emerge now might be awkward. He doesn't want to seem like he was here on purpose.

The worried boy, Liam, is muttering something like _'not ideal_ ' and the sharp voice tells him, in a tone that says he's repeated this same thing many times, "Liam, we are doing a Normal Friend Thing!" He proclaims it like an immense occasion. "I need you to stop worrying about the water and improbable rain and come work your Cub Scout magic on this tent."

With a grumble, Liam obliges. The movement takes him further away from Harry, who relaxes. And then realises that this is the most relaxed he's been in a really long time.

Through the bush near his head, he can see one of them walk over to the riverbank. He tilts his head, watching the water, and Harry has to admit that he's one of the prettiest people Harry has ever seen, all perfect profile and eyelashes. He stands very still, until the sharp voice calls, "Oi! You're not a trophy husband, Zayn, come do some work."

Zayn sticks his tongue out and jogs back over. Harry is about to take his opportunity to leave when Liam, out of breath, says, "I wonder if us being here together is going to change the dream? Like. Normally we can't communicate or do anything different, but if we're closer, it might change."

A pause from the other two. "Might do," says Zayn eventually.

The sharp voiced one, ever cheerful, claps. "Guess we'll find out, won't we?"

And then they all turn their backs. Harry pulls himself up and dashes for it, head spinning.

 

"What was that?"

Liam sounds scared.

"Probably just a bird," Zayn answers, putting what looks like a comforting hand on Liam's arm.

"Or a fox!" offers Louis. He's actually trying to help – after all, he could have just laughed – but Liam doesn't look at all soothed.

 

The afternoon goes by fairly fast, a medley of gathering firewood and unpacking supplies and Zayn watching Liam and Louis paddle in the water.

"So you can't swim? For real or are you just having us on?" Louis floats past Zayn on his back as he talks. For probably the first and last time in his life, he feels serene.

"I'm for real," Zayn answers. "Fell in the pool at a friend's house when I was about ten, scariest thing that's ever happened to me."

Liam is somehow doing _laps_ in a river in the middle of the forest. He stops to say to Zayn, all bright eager face and strong arms treading the water, "I could teach you!"

Zayn laughs, but not unkindly. "Thanks, babe, maybe another time."

 

When they set up to go to sleep, they pull their sleeping bags close together in their tent, looking at each other nervously. It takes a long time for them to stop giggling and chatting, but once they do, they're all out together like lights.

 

Harry tosses and turns, playing their words over and over in his head. They could have been talking about any dream, he tries to tell himself, but that voice sounds silly and pessimistic. However, trying to tell himself that they were talking about _his_ dream sounds equally silly.

All at once, the thoughts drift away. He rolls onto his side and falls straight to sleep.

 

When he wakes the next morning, he's absolutely sure from the moment he opens his eyes. A determined Harry is not to be messed with or so he likes to think. It's early – cool sunlight is starting to hit their yard and no one else is awake yet.

He's a man on a mission, dressed and fed and out the door in a quarter of an hour. The walk is dewy and tiring and he's not entirely sure where their campsite was, other than that it was near the river.

Okay. Maybe he's not so determined. In fact, he's close to going back, really, the certainty from the dream replaced with the logic of actually being awake, when he rounds a corner and there it is.

At first glance, he assumes they're all still asleep. Cautiously entering the campsite, it's only then that he sees the boy, sitting on the river bank, one of the boys from yesterday. His black hair is ruffled from sleep, and he has morning shadow around his face. He's smoking a cigarette. Still, he looks amazing. Zayn, Harry thinks he was called.

"Uhm," says Harry eloquently.

Zayn spins around. Harry is a tad starstruck – with familiarity and also with his general good looks. Something inside Harry's chest swells even as his stomach churns with nerves.

"Who are you?" Zayn asks, expression guarded. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm, uh, I'm here to see." Harry scrambles for another name from yesterday. "Liam?"

Zayn arches an eyebrow. "Liam Payne?"

Harry prays. "Yes, that's the one. Heard he was out here?"

Zayn opens his mouth as if he's going to say something and then he stands up, walks straight past Harry, and enters the tent.

For a minute or so, trying not to listen in on the muffled voices, Harry is by himself. He's hoping so very much that he was right, because doubt is starting to nag at him. What's he going to do if they don't know what he's on about? His Plan A is to run for it and hope they can't remember what he looked like.

Out of the tent comes someone Harry doesn't remember seeing yesterday – he's on the shorter side, wearing a frown on his face, and he regards Harry with his arms crossed. Next comes a taller boy, hair rough and short enough to avoid being a mess, but only just. He's wide eyed and as he fumbles in standing up, Zayn grabs his arm to help him.

"Uh," says the boy. "You were looking for me?"

That's Liam, then. Harry tries to commit it to memory.

"D'you know him?" asks the other boy, and _oh_ , he's the sharp one, Harry remembers now.

Liam shakes his head. Sharp One narrows his eyes further than they already were, which is an accomplishment. "What's your game, then? Who are you?"

"I'm Harry," he answers, honest and plain. "I'm here because of something I overheard yesterday."

Liam blanches. Sharp One puts an arm around him without looking at him. "What'd you hear?"

Harry goes to answer, but then Zayn appears from the tent at last. He's in a fairly hideous red turtleneck pullover and for some reason Sharp One keeps laughing about it.

"I'm so sorry," says Liam to Harry and he has these wide puppy eyes that make Harry feel guilty for confusing him. "I'm actually pretty sure I know you, I just can't think where from."

"Yesterday," says Harry, "you were all talking about a dream." He can see their impending reactions, so he hurries up. "I think that's where you know me from."

Liam gapes openly. Sharp One doesn't look convinced. Zayn is nodding.

"Please believe me," Harry adds meekly.

"I believe you," says Liam. His voice is firm – the other two look surprised.

Sharp One sniffs. "Okay then. If Liam says so." (Liam smiles, eyes crinkling). "I'm Louis Tomlinson. I think your hair is ridiculous."

Harry bristles, but he can feel himself grinning. "You're the one with a half-mullet, man."

Behind Louis, Zayn coughs, "Ouch."

"Anyway," continues Louis, tone dangerous, "This is Liam." He pats Liam on the head. "And this is my husband, Zayn." Zayn, without saying anything, lifts his left hand and shows a green ring on his pinkie finger.

"Right," says Harry. "And you've all been dreaming about a boy, yeah?"

Louis heaves an extreme sigh. "There goes our Normal Friend Thing," he says sadly. "We were so close."

Harry feels bad about that for a moment, but doesn't say anything. There's a silence, then Zayn murmurs something about preparing breakfast and Liam and Louis usher Harry to sit down and tell them everything. Louis has a hand on Harry's knee and they're both looking at him like he's just proven the return of the Messiah, making almost all of Harry's sadness melt off his bones like frost off tree branches, and, well. Harry likes them already.

 

Harry has ridiculous floppy curly hair and dimples and a kind of edge to him that Louis likes right off the bat. He's been having the dream for as long as they all have and (though Louis doesn't say this out loud) the fact that he's handled it and is still maintaining some semblance of Okay and Well-Rested Human Being makes Louis feel almost intimidated.

From what Louis can tell, Liam has taken to Harry already. It might have been the way Harry holds himself or the difference in attitude from Louis or Zayn, but, while nervous, Liam is more relaxed than he was even after he and Louis fixed things up between them. Not the type of relaxed he gets around Zayn – the spill-his-darkest-secrets type of relaxed – but not as self conscious.

Lous isn't quite sure what's going on with Zayn. He's going on about preparing breakfast as if everything is normal, but something's up.

Briefly, Louis considers that they might have become so close in wedlock that the shared dreams have morphed into vague emotional telepathy and then dismisses the idea. Instead, he looks to Zayn's pinkie finger on his left hand. The mood ring is green. Nervous.

Getting up and going over to him – Liam is chatting to Harry about Harry's job at the bakery and they're doing fine on their own – Louis sits down besides Zayn and slips an arm around him. "Everything good, love?"

Zayn nods, quiet.

"Okay, then," says Louis, dubious. "You can tell good old Louis anything, though. Want to whisper it to me?" Zayn cracks a small, anxious smile and Louis squeezes his shoulders. "He's very nice," he adds, nonchalantly, "his intimidatingly good looks are deceiving. Bet you ten quid he turns out to be a right goofball."

Zayn raises his eyebrows, something Louis still is certain must attract every human being on the planet. "You can't make guesses like that, you've just met him."

"I can too." Louis lowers his voice dramatically. "I can _sense it._ "

Snorting, Zayn flips the frying egg. "Takes one to know one, I s'pose."

Louis pokes him gently in the side, right where he knows Zayn has a ticklish spot, making him squirm away. "Could come say hello," he offers. "I'll take over here."

Zayn glances at Harry, who's doubled over laughing at something Liam said. Liam looks, quite frankly, over the moon.

Shoulders hunched, Zayn returns to their breakfast. "I'm alright," he mumbles. "Rather stay here. Need a moment to myself, anyway."

That could be a signal for Louis to back off – for once, he's not sure what he should do. It looks like there isn't any marriage-instigated telepathy after all, he sadly accepts. "Okay," he says at last, withdrawing his arm. "Let us know when it's ready, yeah?"

"Yeah, course," Zayn answers, giving Louis a smile which is half ' _thank you_ ' and half ' _sorry_ '. Louis smiles back, one whole ' _no problem_ ' and goes back over to the others.

Looking up, Harry sees Zayn cooking and pauses mid-sentence. "I should probably go soon," he decides. "Wouldn't want to impose."

Immediately, Liam is saying, "No, no, we've got enough to share!" Behind him, Louis sees a resigned Zayn start cracking several more eggs into the pan.

"Only if it's no problem," Harry says and Liam is replying that of _course_ it would be a pleasure to have him , and Louis decides he has to interrupt.

"Settle down," he says, leaping between them. "You're both so chivalrous! If you're not careful, I'll swoon all over one of you."

Liam laughs, says, "You know that means fainting, not vomiting, right?"

"Wow," Zayn shakes his head in wonder. "Liam knows a word that isn't on the 3rd grade spelling list."

Liam opens his mouth to argue, but never gets the chance. Louis tips back and cries, "Liam! Your vocabulary is too much! I'm going down!"

"Oh, god," huffs Liam as he catches Louis's full weight. "Steady on, Tommo."

"My hero," Louis sighs. He proceeds to bite down on Liam's neck.

"Are they always like this?" Harry calls to Zayn.

In a tone of great suffering, Zayn laments, "Always."

 

Harry has a deep, slow voice that makes his stories almost impossible to follow, but he makes up for it by being the most charming listener Louis has ever had. He's telling the story of how they met and Harry nods and laughs and says, "NO WAY!" in all the right places. Louis could talk to him for hours.

Breakfast is scrambled eggs on fried bread and Harry gets the first plate. When Louis demands why, Zayn answers, "Because he's the guest. And because you're the worst husband ever."

Affronted, Louis demands, "How am I the worst husband ever?"

Zayn merely points at the blossoming bruise at Liam's throat. Louis is quite proud of himself, actually, because it makes Liam's neck symmetrical by being straight across from his birthmark.

"My parents will never believe I'm not dating you after this," says Liam sadly. Harry claps him on the shoulder even as they all laugh.

"This is great food, thanks so much." Harry's mouth is full, so Louis struggles to understand him, but Zayn smiles and swallows quickly.

"Thanks. I mean, you're welcome."

For an uninterrupred ten or minutes there's the general sound of teenagers eating as they all wolf down their food. Louis is kind of challenging himself to beat Harry. When Harry catches on, his mouthfuls become a lot more frequent and, by the end, they're both giggling so much that Harry chokes.

To nobody’s surprise, Liam comes to the rescue and supplies Harry with a glass of water.

As Harry blinks back coughing-induced tears, he looks straight at Louis and rasps, "I think I hate you."

Louis smiles. "You too, Curly." And just like that, they're friends.

 

After food, Louis brings out his soccer ball and they have a good kick around, passing it to each other and weaving it through the trees. Harry's fairly hopeless, but at least he tries. Zayn doesn't try. He half-jogs after the ball and then waits for someone else to deal with it. Unfortunately, Louis loves him for it.

Harry looks at his phone, sees the time, and sighs. "I gotta go," he says. "I'm never up this early, and I can't play it off as a walk if I stay much longer." He gets to his feet, brushing off his hands on his shirt.

"Wait, hang on," says Liam. "We'd like to have your number. I mean, it'd be better, if we all had it, if you wanted to stay in contact. Um."

"Yeah, sure, hold on." Harry pulls his phone out again. Liam looks relieved and Louis wraps an arm around him.

They pass Harry's phone around and each put their numbers into it while he puts his own into each of theirs. Louis enters himself as ' _The Fit One_ ' and tries not to feel too smug about it.

Harry really does have to leave then, so Louis bounds over and gives him a quick hug. Harry returns it easily. He feels like a big, lanky teddy bear and if there's any doubt left that he's one of them, it's banished by the calmness, the storm inside Louis suddenly settling when they embrace.

Then Harry actually leaves. Which _sucks_ , so Liam gets Louis to come have a morning swim and Zayn sits with his sketchbook on the riverbank.

It's a proper spring morning; Louis knows winter will strike a few times more before it fully lets go, but today warm sunlight spills down onto them and birds call all around, promising summer and more time like this.

Louis can't imagine going home and being away from Liam and Zayn. Even Harry. It feels right to have them there.

"So, was it just me," Liam surfaces to say, "or was the dream last night more... awakey?"

"Yeah, that's definitely a word," Louis nods and Liam rolls his eyes.

"I felt almost like, in control." Zayn doesn't look up as he speaks, focus trained on the book in his hands. Louis thinks he might be drawing the trees, but he can't tell from this angle. "Like I could almost talk or look at one of you. Almost," he adds again. "Not quite, though."

Louis feels the same. "What Zayn said," he agrees.

"I definitely felt like being close helped," continues Liam, drifting on his back. It's too tempting – he looks so _serious_ , eyebrows pulled in as he stares upwards – and Louis decides it's his responsiblity to dunk Liam under.

Zayn's laughter and Liam's spluttering echo down the river. Other than that the only sounds are the gushing of the water and the birds, singing louder now.

Louis never wants to leave.

 

Late that night, when the other two are in bed (and he should be, too) Louis's phone buzzes.

_From: Harold_

_To: The Fit One_

_Hiii. I know it's late. Could I call you?_

Louis texts back right away.

_From: The Fit One_

_To: Harold_

_Sure :) Not asleep yet._

Only a moment later, he hears his ringtone start and he answers it within the first two chimes.

"Hey," says Harry's voice on the other end. "You sure I didn't wake you?"

"Positive. How are you doing?"

Louis wishes he could think of something funny to follow that up, because it sounded very genuine.

"Uhm, pretty odd," Harry admits. "I found out I have to share my dream boyfriend with three other guys, so that's. Interesting."

It takes Harry giggling at himself for Louis to realise that was a joke. He tries to convey with a slow "Haha" that he's rolling his eyes, but he can't keep the smile off his face.

"No," Harry continues, "Going okay. Miss you lot."

Louis gets a pang in his chest. He remembers how it felt when he had to part from Zayn, right when they first met – remembers the shakiness and the leaden feeling of his legs and the lack of belief that any of it could be real.

"You should come visit," offers Harry out of the blue. "My parents are going away for a few nights, I've got the house to myself."

"You as in me, or you as in Zayn and Liam too?"

Harry takes long enough for Louis to know he's being honest. "All of you! All of you. If you want to, I mean."

"I'm sure they'd love to come," he says "Fair keen myself – only thing is, I'll have to see with my mum, I might have to babysit my sisters. But that'd only be for a bit."

"You've got sisters?" Harry says. "Like, little ones?"

"Oh, yeah," says Louis. "Four of them. A set of twins. Right handful, let me tell you."

"Go on, then. Tell me!" Harry sounds excited. Or, as excited as one can with a deep, slow voice like his.

So Louis does. It's far too late by the time they both get to bed, still laughing as they're saying goodnight.

 

The hike out of the woods the next day is filled with light chatter. Despite how painfully early it is, Liam seems brighter than ever, almost bouncing; Louis is more tolerating him than anything, rolling his eyes and putting in a snarky comment every now and again, smiling the whole way. He's holding Zayn's hand and while part of Zayn wants him to let go, almost wants to be by himself, he knows he's going to miss it when it's gone, so he holds on tight. He's very tired.

When they reach the bus stop to head to their schools, Liam's dad is there to drop off their school bags and take the tent gear home. Zayn pulls both Liam and Louis into a hug. They hold him back, and he starts to understand what Liam always meant, because he can literally hear them talking with their eyes over his head.

"You've got Harry's number?" Liam checks, pulling back to look Zayn in the eyes.

Zayn nods.

"And we're going to meet you at the coffee shop – " Louis starts.

"Thursday, to study," Zayn finishes for him. "Then Harry's on the weekend."

They both smile; he smiles back, hopes they're not going to worry too much.

"Love you," says Louis.

Zayn echoes it back, "You too, bro."

His bus pulls up with a faint screech, and he scrambles aboard and waves goodbye to them out the window, watching them vanish around the corner.

He lets out a long breath and settles back into his seat, closing his eyes. He's happy, but utterly exhausted. A nap comes quick and easy.

 

School is weird, to put it lightly. Zayn knows he's been adrift from his friends more and more ever since he met Louis. He hadn't realised how much until he's standing at their table and Ant's saying, "Wow. Look who's back." And they're all staring. Zayn doesn't like it.

"Uh," he says. The staring continues. It possibly grows more aggressive. "Sorry."

That seems to be enough to break the spell; their cool art kid hostility is gone, replaced with welcomes and questions. It's Danny who fends them off, telling them to give him some time to unpack his lunch at least.

Zayn takes his time, waiting til conversation has started back up again to actually get his food out of his bag.

"So," says Danny, leaning across the table. "Where've you been, bro?"

Zayn feels bad for giving Danny such brief text replies over the weekend. He can tell from the crease in his and Ant's brows that both of them have been concerned. "Sorry," he says again, "Had stuff going on, I guess."

Ant's watching him like a hawk. "Come on, mate," he says. "Don't be shy. What's going down?"

Shrugging, Zayn picks at his food. He can't lie to them.

"Hmm," says Ant and he leans across further, elbows inches from Zayn's hands. "Is it a girl?" he murmurs, and the idea of it being a crush is so funny to Zayn, he can't help but laugh.

Danny relaxes, laughs with him, and eventually Zayn says, "I'm sorry, guys, there's wild stuff going on in my life right now. I'll catch you up later, alright?"

"We're holding you to that," warns Danny and gives him a loose fist bump. Ant starts going on about the new Captain America movie, and Zayn feels like he can breathe again. Or, as much as he ever can, with the weight of being apart from Louis and Liam (and Harry, he supposes) settling into his chest.

 

The next few days go somewhat similarly. Zayn does his best to focus in his classes, to balance time with his school friends and his family with his time alone. He and Liam text a lot; he and Louis phone every night.

Zayn's still too nervous to talk to Harry, so he keeps putting it off, telling himself they'll catch up heaps over the weekend anyway. The ache is back, but he does his best to ignore it.

 

Thursday rolls around. When he arrives at the cafe, the other two are already there, sharing Liam's very old Dell laptop between them. Liam is laughing, shoulders scrunched up, and Louis is pulling his straight face, his _I've never told a joke in my life_ face, but Zayn doesn't miss the sparkle in his eyes.

Upon seeing him, they call him over, arms excited and voices probably too loud. By the time Louis is declaring that, "Beloved, without you, I have been an empty soul!" Zayn is resigned to being kicked out and never allowed back here again.

"Hey," he says.

Louis looks outraged; Liam might actually be about to die laughing. "After all that!" Louis yelps. "I get 'hey'? Nothing but a 'hey'! What happened to you, that's what I'd like to know. What happened to the Zayn who wrote me sonnets, sonnets about –"

"Shut up," Zayn growls. People are turning to look at them now, but they all seem to be amused and he can't really care anyway. He's too busy trying not to laugh.

"Sonnets about my _eyes!_ " Louis presses on.

There's a bang. Liam's chair has fallen over, taking him down with it. Louis and Zayn look at each other, and go to help him up.

Needless to say, they don't get a lot of work done. Zayn feels great anyway.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [See notes at end of this chapter for warnings]

Friday seems to drag on and on and on. Zayn is normally patient, doesn't mind waiting for things to happen, but the entirety of his day prior to leaving for Harry's feels pointless. His friends assume he's having a moody day and leave him alone. Sometimes he can't believe the slack you get cut for being an arty kid.

He drops home for about an hour to get changed and finish packing and say goodbye. His mum is nervous, but she doesn't want to ' _hold him back from opportunity_ '. He kisses her cheek and promises to phone that night before bed.

She looks right deep into his eyes. "This is what you tell me it is?" she checks.

"Absolutely," he answers honestly. "Louis, Liam, a boy called Harry, me. That's it. We're all nerds, Mum, worst that could happen is we illegally stream a superhero movie. Promise."

She nods, seems satisfied. A car horn sounds outside, and he calls goodbye to his sisters as he grabs his bag and dashes out the door.

Liam is waiting for him, looking every bit as excited as Zayn feels. There's a girl in the car that Zayn's not met.

"Zayn, this is Ruth." Liam gestures to her. "She's my sister. She's here to drive us there and take the car home, since neither of us can."

"Oh, I get you," Zayn says, relieved to find out he didn't accidentally lie to his mum. "Nice to meet you."

Ruth gives him a sweet smile, says, "Lovely to meet you too!" and turns to Liam and asks, "Is this the one you're totally not dating?"

"Ruth," hisses Liam, going pink. "I'm not dating any of them."

She scoffs. "Riiight. But is this the one who gives you lovebites?"

"Put your stuff in the boot, Zayn," Liam says cheerily, not looking at her at all. Zayn does, biting his lip to keep himself from laughing.

He gets in the backseat in time to hear Liam snap that YES, they SLEPT, SWAM and PLAYED FOOTBALL when they went camping, THANKS. Zayn presses a hand to his mouth and hides his smile by looking out the window.

 

Considering all that, the drive is actually quite comfortable. Ruth is a master of small talk; she keeps up conversation the whole way, never seeming awkward. Zayn envies that more than he'd care to admit. Liam is quiet, but he keeps glancing at Zayn in the rearview mirror, and though he's enjoyed his time to himself, the nerves and the aches build up faster and faster, it seems. Even the sight of Liam feels good.

Harry's place is a fair drive out, half an hour out of the main town, Zayn guesses, though there's a bus stop only a few streets down. Ruth is already complaining about how she's going to have to use Google Maps to find her way home. Zayn reckons he likes her.

 

When they arrive, they get out and stand and stare for a moment on the gravel driveway.

It's not a celebrity mansion or anything, but Harry's house is, like, big. It has two stories and sprawls across the crest of a green hill, starting to brighten with fresh spring leaves. The outside coat of paint is very well-maintenanced and there are balconies for some of the second story windows. The place doesn't smell like suburbia; it smells fresh and open. Even the gravel under his feet sounds expensive.

Compared to Zayn's tiny house, which contains him and five other people, it looks huge. Liam, whose mouth is hanging open, seems to feel a similar way.

It takes Ruth clearing her throat to snap them out of it; she's in the driver's seat, hand tapping on the door. They quickly scurry back, pulling their bags out of the backseat. She blows Liam a kiss, tells him to be safe and text her to remind her to pick them up. Liam shoos her away, embarrassed. Rolling her eyes, she does a masterful three point turn and disappears again down the road. They're left facing the intimidating shape of Harry's house.

"Will you ring the bell or shall I?" jokes Liam. He's as nervous as Zayn.

"Scissors, paper, rock?" offers Zayn.

"Best out of three?" replies Liam.

"You're on, bro."

 

They're up to best of thirty-three when Harry says, "Uh, do you two want to come inside?"

Zayn jumps, distracted by Harry, and finds himself being flicked by Liam, who's crowning himself the champion.

"Not that I want to interrupt," Harry adds, "but there's pizza in here."

That gets Liam's attention. He ceases his wild fist-bumping celebratory dance and says, "Oh, sorry! Hi, sure, that sounds great."

Harry grins. He looks tired (Zayn mentally counts the days since they've seen him) and his hair is even more of a mess.

Cooing, Liam hugs him, repeats phrases Zayn remembers saying to Liam himself when this was all still difficult and new. Harry holds on tight and says, "Thanks," to every kind word.

Zayn picks up his bag and, approaching them as they pull away, gives Harry a one-armed hug. It's short, but the smile Zayn receives makes it feel worth it.

"Your house is so nice, mate," Liam says as Harry leads them inside. "This is a proper house."

Harry laughs. "It's not really special," he answers politely. "Just special to us."

If it were possible to have actual stars in your eyes, Liam would have them. Zayn hoists his bag up higher on his shoulders, because it's slipped from him craning his head back to look at how high the ceiling is. This isn't a problem he has at his friends' houses, normally.

"So," Liam continues, head turning in an attempt to look at all the pictures on the walls without stopping, "any sign of Louis yet?"

"No, he texted me earlier," answers Harry, putting his hands in his pockets. "He's gotta babysit til his mum gets home tonight, but he'll be here in time for tea."

"Bet he'll hug me first," adds Zayn, grinning, and Harry whistles.

"Boy, you're on. A quid to the first person who gets a hug?"

Zayn nods. Liam says, "I'm totally in."

"Follow me," continues Harry, as he reaches the stairs. "Bring your bags up to my room and we'll go from there, yeah?"

Harry's room is up the stairs, through two twisting corridors, and to the right. Zayn thinks. It might have been the left. Anyway, the place is big. Harry points things out to them as they walk – the bathroom, his big sister's room ("She's at uni, though, not here"), and then his own room.

Zayn automatically warms to people when he sees their bedrooms. Someone's room is a tiny piece of their soul, he reckons, bared to you upon entry, and Harry's room is no exception. A laptop – probably worth more than his, Liam, and Louis's computers put together – sits on a small, sturdy desk. King single bed, dark blue sheets. Photos of people Zayn assumes are relatives, though they might be friends. School backpack, thrown on a beanbag in the corner. A view out his window of the hill, on which the house is set, and beyond it, a lovely flat set of land before it disappears north into the trees. He can almost imagine he can see their campsite. There are one or two other houses, but all distant.

"This is sick, man," he says, and Harry breaks out into a huge, relieved grin.

"Thanks. It's normally more of a mess, but I cleaned up a little this morning."

"I like your curtains," mutters Liam. Zayn has no idea what that's supposed to mean.

Harry laughs. "Wouldn't have called them the star feature, but thanks. Put your stuff anywhere, like."

Zayn dumps his bag on the floor, and Liam rests his on Harry's bed, shooting a look as if to ask if that's okay. Harry's busy leading them back downstairs.

As they approach the other end of the lower floor, the smell of pizza starts to waft in from the kitchen. Zayn's stomach grumbles appreciatively. He could use a snack.

They eat, and Liam tells this story about how, near his old school (Zayn's school now), there'd been this pizza place that had the most amazing Hawaii special EVER, only all the waiters insisted on being given flowers. Zayn munches away, happy to listen. Harry grins at Liam, says, "You're quite funny, y'know."

Liam does that scrunchy, surprised smile that makes Zayn feel warm inside. "Hope that's a good thing!"

Harry smiles wider and doesn't really answer. Instead, when they finish their food, he breaks the silence by saying, "D'you want to watch a movie? Til Louis gets here, anyway."

They end up watching one of the Batman movies, because Liam gets really avidly excited when he spots it ("Mate, I haven't seen this one!") and Zayn does too, a bit, but he's quieter about it.

A large-screen TV takes up most of Harry's living room wall, and the couches look like they might be real leather. Zayn accepts that Harry's family is rich. They sit on the couch to watch, Harry in between Zayn and Liam, and they all enjoy not having to use a blanket, as it's properly spring.

It turns out that Liam is a huge sap when he watches movies. It's really weird to Zayn, that in all their hanging out and comic book reading, he can't remember them ever watching a movie together. It looks like Alfred is dead, and Liam is actually crying a little bit.

Zayn is ready to go over and check he's alright, but Harry puts an arm around Liam first, silent. His eyes dart to Zayn, uncertain, and that kills the jealousy beginning to form in Zayn's gut. He nods, gives Harry the thumbs-up, and leans over to put a hand on Liam's knee. Liam makes a sound that might have been "Thanks," but might have been a sob.

There's a bang in the hall and, imperiously, Louis shouts, "Are you all having fun without me? Bet you've even finished the food. Come and give me a hand, you useless, ungrateful dreammates!"

Zayn looks at Harry, and they both laugh. Pausing the film, Harry jerks his head. Zayn glances at Liam.

"I'm fine," Liam says, in answer to Zayn's unasked question. "Gimme a moment to clean up and wait for Tommo's tantrum to be over."

"Alright, mate," says Zayn, tussling his hair.

He and Harry, upon reaching the kitchen, are met with the sight of Louis, two large suitcases at his feet, backpack hanging off his shoulder, a piece of pizza in each hand. He's reading the shopping list on the fridge.

Turning and seeing them, he waits til he's finished his mouthful. Once he's swallowed, he exclaims, "Finally! Reception here is _awful_ – " Louis speaks in italics a lot, Zayn has noted, "– you've already lost about half a star."

Harry's laughing already. "Alright, Louis, alright. Don't worry. We weren't having fun without you."

In a low, menacing tone, Louis growls. "You better not have been. Now!" He continues on in his usual bright voice. "Someone take my suitcases."

"Bags not it," Harry snorts.

Zayn yawns, "Not on your life, man."

Louis, incredibly offended, opens his mouth, but his gaze falls to behind them and it goes totally soft. "Oh, look at you. Have the big boys been mean to you, darlin'?"

Liam juts out his lower lip in a pout and gives an exaggerated sniffle, opening his arms. Realising what he's doing, Harry and Zayn groan and swear respectively.

"Did those kids make you cry, pet?" Louis coos, running his thumbs under Liam's eyes. "They did! Awful, big, terrible meanies."

He pulls Liam close to him, and over Harry saying, "CHEAT!" Zayn hears Liam chuckle.

Louis narrows his eyes. "You said that you didn't have fun without me!" he whinges. "And here you are, leaving me out of a new in-joke?" He huffs, turns from Liam to hoist up his cases and heads very slowly towards the stairs. His arms are straining to take the weight. "Since the service here is _so terrible_ , I guess I'll carry my own luggage."

"Louis, stop," laughs Liam, going after him. "You'll hurt yourself." He pulls one of the cases out of his hands. Louis mutters something that makes Liam laugh harder, and they head upstairs, leaving Zayn and Harry alone in the kitchen. Harry's still gazing after them, smiling so hard his face looks like it could break. "God, they're funny. Can't believe they didn't get on."

That time feels so distant to Zayn now. He guesses you can only watch someone give someone else a hickey so many times until it becomes normal, at least, that they're friends.

"Get on like a house on fire, now," he says, instead of all that. "Good thing, too."

Harry surveys him for a moment, and Zayn can't help but feel nervous. He's just _awkward,_ and he doesn't have a clue what to say, and he really doesn't want Harry to think he's an idiot. There's also a rumbling from upstairs, and it's very distracting. He hopes Liam and Louis aren't breaking anything.

"Dude," Harry says at last, "what hair stuff do you use? Your quiff is perfect'."

Zayn's midway through explaining the combination of gel and spray he uses, when Louis comes flying down the stairs, yelling, "DON'T TELL LIAM WHERE I AM!" before dashing out the back door.

Following him with a delay of a few moments is Liam, drenched from the torso up.

"Which way did Louis go?!" he pants, water dramatically splashing across his face as he flicks his fringe.

Zayn is honest and points out the back door. Harry lies effortlessly, indicating the entry hall.

Liam frowns. "I'm going to trust Harry on this one, no offense Zayn," says Liam, "you and Louis are married." He takes off down the hall, leaving small patches of water behind him.

For a moment, the only sound is the ticking of the clock on the wall.

"Honestly, do we even want to know?" Harry asks helplessly, and Zayn starts laughing again.

They share the remains of Louis's pizza, and at last decide they should probably go look for the other two. Zayn's starting to realise that Harry doesn't always mind sitting in the quiet, and it makes him a lot less nervous.

When they find Louis and Liam, they're literally perched on a branch together, up in one of the big oaks towards the base of the hill outside Harry's house. If it hadn't been for the incessant giggling, they might not have been found at all.

Harry peers up at them, opens his mouth – Louis warns "Oh, Harold, don't you _dare_ ," – and proclaims, "Liam and Louis, sitting in a tree."

"K-I-S-S-I-N-G," Zayn obliges, and Liam makes a wailing sound and buries his face in his hands. This action makes him lose his balance, and for a terrifying moment, he's probably going to fall. Louis catches him, but after that, they both seem far more keen on coming down.

"Have you always been this weird?" Harry sighs, so warmly that it makes Zayn's belly feel odd, "or is it something you bring out in each other?"

"Do you have a football?" Louis asks, by way of reply.

Harry rolls with it. "Yeah, you want to play?"

"Hell yes I do," Louis says fiercely, and grabs Liam's hand. "Bagsy Payno!"

Wrapping his finger around Zayn's wrist, Harry retorts, "Bagsy your husband." Pausing, he looks at Zayn. "If that's okay."

"I am the worst," Zayn warns. "Honest, probably the worst footballer you'll ever meet."

Harry nods seriously; his grip tightens. "Bagsy your husband," he repeats.

 

It only makes Zayn feel a little better to remember that Harry is almost as bad as he is. They're both not as awful as they say they are, but against the wild Dream Team that is Liam and Louis – between Liam's strength and desire to please Louis and Louis's competitiveness and skill with the game – they've got no chance.

Zayn is first to surrender, flopping onto the grass and watching the stars for a moment as he gets his breath back. Harry joins him soon after, laughing and so sweaty it should be disgusting. They pant together for a few seconds.

"I should be better at this," Harry says. "Like, considering how much I like it."

Laughing, Zayn turns his head to look at Harry. When their eyes meet and Zayn doesn't look away, Harry smiles back.

"QUICK! LIAM, THEY'RE HAVING A MOMENT WITHOUT US!"

Zayn resigns himself to his fate as he hears footsteps pounding towards them. The air is completely knocked from his body by Louis falling on top of him.

"Hi, Zayn," says Liam cheerily. He's quite flushed, standing over them and resting his hands on his knees.

"Hi," Zayn replies, except due to the lack of air, it comes out more a faint wheeze. Louis rolls delicately off him and laces their fingers. Harry puts his head on Louis's shoulder.

"C'mon, Liam," whines Louis. "Don't just stand there!"

Liam laughs and sits down, legs stuck out, resting back on his elbows. To their outrage, he's not touching any of them. Zayn, Louis, and Harry exchange looks and all race to be first to be on top of him.

 

They talk about sleeping out on the lawn, but Harry starts to complain about mosquitoes (Louis claims it's all the bananas he eats that attract mosquitoes to him), and Liam starts to get chilly. He doesn't say so, but Zayn can feel him starting to shiver.

Inside they go.

They did eat pizza, but that was a snack, and it feels like forever ago. They're all starved and within minutes clammering for food. (Except Liam, because he's too polite).

Harry, equal parts shy and excited, offers, "I could make pasta while you all clean up?"

The chorus of ' _YES!'_ (including Liam, and Zayn understands. He's only human, manners or no) is too loud, and Harry seems pleased. "Alright! You go shower or whatever and I'll get started."

"Want me to help?" Liam offers. "Since we'll have to take turns showering anyway."

"Well," Louis starts, eyebrows high, and Harry smacks at him.

"Go shower, please."

"Fine." Louis turns on his heel. "I can see where I'm not wanted. Let's go, Zayn." Louis grabs Zayn's wrist and tugs him, and they leave the room to a despairing sigh (Liam) and wolf whistling (Harry).

They take a few minutes searching the upstairs for the bathroom; once they've found it, Louis makes Zayn stay there while he goes and gets their changes of clothes. "This way," he explains, to Zayn, who is sceptical, "if I get lost, we can have a good game of Marco Polo."

"I married you," Zayn laments, and Louis sticks his tongue out.

It's a few minutes before Louis comes back, holding their clothes under each arm. Zayn has occupied himself looking at the photos on the wall. There's a wedding photo, and it feels strange to have to assume that's Harry's mum. He's never met her, and yet he's staying in her house. There's also a photo of a small boy, who is pretty clearly Harry.

"His hair was straight," Zayn says.

"And blonde," agrees Louis. "Amazing." Then, he rushes into the bathroom before Zayn has a chance.

"Booo," Zayn yawns at the door, settling down against the wall. The only response he gets is the gushing of the shower.

 

Dinner is a wonderful, if slightly messy affair. Harry has cooked so much pasta it takes him, Liam, and Zayn to carry it all over to the table. Liam is so focused on not spilling it that he nearly trips over Louis, who is sprawled on the floor giving them lazy encouragement.

It takes a decent while before they're all actually ready to eat. Harry makes them wash their hands first, too, and Zayn feels like he's at his grandmother's house.

Zayn has never enjoyed pasta so much. His mum is a fantastic cook, and he's in no way trying to bring her down; it's just, he's never had quite so much fun at a dinner table. Watching how the others interact – seeing how he instinctively responds to them – are all analyses he tries to force from his mind so he can enjoy himself. But they are there, and Zayn knows that this, whatever it is, is important.

Cleaning up, too, involves a lot of mess. Zayn and Louis get into a water fight with their cleaning rags and only stop when Louis accidentally flicks Zayn in the eye and Liam goes all first-aid officer on them.

 

Zayn finds himself in the living room doorway. Harry stands in the center of the room, frowning. His hair is all flopped down on his face, beanie riding low on his ears. His hands are in his pockets.

"We could," he says, in his slowest voice, "talk Liam into carrying mattresses, or we could use the spare room. I don't wanna, like. Separate you all or anything."

Zayn sucks his teeth. "What's in the spare room?"

"Double bed," answers Harry. More carefully, he adds, "you and Louis could sleep there, if you like."

Zayn shrugs. "Don't mind. It's up to you, I s'pose."

They must arrange something, because all of a sudden, Zayn is in Harry's room, figuring out how to transport Louis's suitcases and backpack down the stairs.

"Well, we got them _up_ the stairs," Louis says, put out. "Don't see how _down_ can be harder than _up._ "

"We had Liam," Harry points out. If Zayn tries, he can hear Liam's shower a few doors down.

It takes three trips, one instance of Harry nearly getting Zayn killed, and a total of seventeen minutes to get everything down the staircase. Zayn leans on the wall and gives a sigh of relief. "You can't possibly need all this stuff, for God's sake," he complains. "We're here for a weekend! What's even in there?"

"My entire family's history in photo albums," answers Louis primly.

"Duh, Zayn," Harry snorts, grinning, and flops down on the couch with a yawn. His beanie is almost totally over his eyes, and beneath his hair, all Zayn can really see is the end of his nose and his broad grin, and Zayn wants nothing more than to lie on top of him and go to sleep.

Unfortunately, Louis beats him to it. Well, not to the sleeping part. But one moment, he's holding Zayn's hand and the next he's spread eagle on top of Harry. Harry sort of sighs and takes out his mobile.

Zayn pauses in thought. With some caution, he positions himself curled up down from them, his head on their calves. They laugh and Louis reaches down to pet his hair.

 

They lie peacefully until Liam pads into the room, small towel around his shoulders to catch the drips from his hair. He's really pretty, honestly, before he jumps on top of them all.

This causes Louis to lose his balance, and he falls, pushing Zayn off and pulling Harry with him. After several bangs and huffs and indignant cries of each others' names, they're all dogpiled on the floor. Zayn is on top of Louis and Liam and underneath Harry, and they're all breathless. Zayn catches Liam and Louis grinning at each other, and Harry's hand rests on Zayn's shoulder. His fingers are broad and soft and something inside Zayn's chest swells and swells, until he can't breathe.

He suddenly really needs a cig. Or to be outside. Or anything; he needs to be away from it. He pushes himself up, and Harry compliantly rolls off him, hand sliding down Zayn's arm.

"Zayn?"

Louis and Liam are both watching him, eyes happy and a little concerned, in such different ways. Zayn sits back on his calves. They're all really beautiful and important and it's choking him. Harry's fingers slide further down his arm to his wrist.

"I, uh, I'm going for a smoke." His mouth is dry and his breaths are faint, they're all frowning at him, and Harry's holding his hand.

"Mate, you okay?" Harry looks worried now, too, and Zayn has only just MET him, and a huge emotion is filling him up and it's only making him feel worse and _Harry is still holding his hand._

"Yeah, fine, be back in a few." He tugs himself free, and pretends he can't feel them watching him as he goes.

Up the stairs, he tells himself, right down the hall, through Harry's room, and to the small balcony. He can make it if he focuses, though his head doesn't feel all too good.

He only realises he's shaking when he can't light up properly. He feels like he might cry or vomit or suffocate. He can feel his pulse in every part of his body, like it's swollen. He remembers feeling like this when he fell into his cousin's pool at ten years old, when he nearly drowned.

The door slides open behind him; he doesn't turn and look.

"Zayn?"

It's Liam.

"Zayn, are you okay?"

His voice is so troubled, and his hand is hot and steady when he rests it in the small of Zayn's back. Zayn isn't sure he can speak. He can't love them this much, he can't he can't he _can't_ –

Liam's hand presses and eases in a rhythm. "Breathe," he murmurs, "you're safe, it's fine, mate."

"Can't make it light," Zayn manages, and it sounds so weak, like he's crying, but he's not.

Taking the cig and lighter from him – the brush of fingers makes Zayn's teeth clench – Liam has a few inexperienced tries before he finally gets it. He passes the cig and lighter back, and Zayn takes a shallow, wobbly drag. Liam stands with his elbows on the railing and gazes off the balcony. Zayn can see where they played football before. He's really afraid. The sight of Liam is grounding and terrifying all at once.

Eventually, over the course of several minutes, his breaths become deeper, more even. He's nauseous still, and his knees feel like jelly.

He's done enough research into anxiety to know what that was.

"Think I had a panic attack," he mumbles.

"Reckon you did," Liam agrees.

There's a pause.

"Did one of us do something?"

"I don't know," answers Zayn. "This whole thing is mad. Don't know what we think we're doing."

Liam rests his cheek on his arms. "Loving people is okay," he says. "So's being scared, I think."

Zayn closes his eyes as another wave of trembling passes over him. It leaves him weak. Liam doesn't touch him, and Zayn's so grateful for that.

"I'm sick of not understanding it," Zayn says. "I feel like I – I feel like this – like I don't get a choice."

It's so quiet out here compared to in town. There are no cars, no ambient noises besides faint crickets. "I think feeling all of that is okay, too," Liam tells him.

His presence is so soothing, but Zayn doesn't understand _why_ and it makes his head spin.

"Take a moment, don't think about it too hard," advises Liam, gentle frown on his brow. "You'll get worked up again."

"I have to call my mum," Zayn remembers, and suddenly he wants nothing else. He wants his mum, he wants his mum so much, and he wonders if this is why she didn't let him go on too many sleepovers as a kid.

"Where's your phone?" Liam asks immediately.

"I left it inside. It's down near the couch. Charging."

Liam disappears inside. Zayn focuses entirely on his cig until he comes back, on the breath in and out, the taste of smoke. Leaning on the railing is nice; it's cold, which feels good on his arms, and steady, which his whole body needs.

"Here." Zayn turns; Liam is offering him his mobile. He has one foot on the balcony, the other still inside. Zayn takes it. "I'll leave you to it?"

Zayn wants to point out that that can't be a grammatically correct question, and then wants to laugh at himself, and then he wants to cry all over Liam's Batman t-shirt.

"Thanks," he says, instead of doing any of that.

Nodding, Liam says, "you're welcome, mate." He goes inside and closes the door behind him.

Zayn snubs out his cigarette as the dialtone sounds.

"Hey, sunshine."

He lets out a long breath that has nothing to do with smoke. "Hi, Mum."

 

They're watching the rest of Batman when Zayn comes back. They've dragged the blanket and the cushions off the couch, and they're all curled up under it. Liam sees Zayn first, and he arches his eyebrows. Zayn knows he's asking if he's okay.

He doesn't really respond to it. He walks in, steps small, and when Louis sees him, he pushes Harry out to make room for Zayn between them. Harry doesn't even pretend to be offended.

Zayn settles in, and they pull the blanket back up. Neither of them hold him. Instead, they sit beside him, shoulders and legs pressed against his. It's weird that they know what to do.

 

By the end of the movie, Harry's nearly asleep, and Louis flat-out refuses to climb the stairs. Zayn hauls him to the spare room while Liam sets himself and Harry up on the couches.

Louis doesn't say anything at first. He waits til the lights are out, and they're both under the covers, Zayn lying on his side, Louis on his back.

"You okay?"

Louis sounds weird. Zayn doesn't know how either of them feel.

"Yeah. Freaked out a bit. Realised how strange this all is."

It takes Zayn a moment to realise that Louis is laughing at him.

"I'm sorry," says Louis, "I thought we'd done this already, is all. Like, yeah. It's weird. Good job."

Zayn huffs and says, "Right empath, you are." But he's smiling.

"Sorry," says Louis again. "I love you, you know that."

"Course I do." Zayn thinks for a moment. "You know how we're married?"

"Yeah?"

"I never actually agreed. To marry you, I mean."

Louis rolls to face him, and Zayn adds, "I'd like to, though." He sucks in a breath. "Marry you, I mean."

All smiles, Louis says, "Sure. If you like."

"I would like," whispers Zayn.

Louis links their pinkies in the space between their bodies, and that's how they fall asleep.

 

Liam wakes with a start when he's jolted from the dream. At first he trembles, he breathes hard, but when he sits up a bit and sees Harry, he feels better.

He's a little fuzzy, and his mouth tastes strongly of morning breath. Harry is still fast asleep. They decided to tops-and-tails on the couch rather than Harry go upstairs, and Liam likes this, likes waking up to someone else there. He feels safe and content.

Once he's up, he checks on Zayn and Louis, who are also still fast asleep, and goes on the hunt for a clock. Harry's house is big and peaceful at this hour, light pouring in from high up windows, casting shadows on the cream walls. His footsteps are a light pad on the tiles, and a softer shuffle on the carpet. Having so much space feels good, but strange.

There's a clock in the kitchen, he finds, and it's pretty early. He can't imagine Zayn or Louis will be up for a while, so he decides he's going to go for a jog.

It's brisk outside, ideal conditions, and there's nobody for ages around. He goes far enough to work up a good sweat, down near where they played football and up the hill again, then out down the road towards town and back. When he comes back in, he sneaks up the stairs (which don't creak, and, god, what Liam wouldn't give for stairs that don't creak at home) and has a cold shower.

There's nothing weirder to him than showering in someone else's house. His mum always says home is where you can work the bath properly, and he reckons she's right.

After showering and brushing his teeth, he feels definitely more awake, and he trots down the stairs and into the kitchen still toweling his hair.

Harry is up, filling the kettle. He's already in a beanie even though he must have only just woken, and besides that, all he's wearing is his boxers. Liam feels a smile coming on.

"Hi," Liam says, and, not startled, Harry turns to give him a wide, sleepy grin.

"Morning," he yawns back. "Are you showered? I bet you're a morning person."

"Went for a jog," answers Liam sheepishly, and Harry groans.

"Productive people aren't allowed in my house, sorry. Tea?"

Liam leans on the counter. "Yes, please."

It's quiet and comfortable. Liam is awake enough to function, and Harry is asleep enough to blush when Liam smiles at him and takes his tea, and overall it's a nice balance between them.

"Zayn okay?" Harry asks, sipping from his own mug and perching on one of their very nice, sturdy-looking stools. Liam's family barely has enough chairs for all of them, and one of them has a wobbly leg that his dad can't fix no matter what he tries.

"Yeah," answers Liam. "He was a little shaken, but he's fine. Still asleep with Louis, as far as I know."

Harry nods, stirring his sugar. His eyes are droopy. "He's so sweet," he mumbles.

To his credit, Liam almost manages not to grin. "I know. He's a good guy." He looks into his cup and adds, "you're all good guys."

"Nawh," Harry says, voice all soft.

Liam drinks more of his tea. They're in companionable silence for a few minutes.

"A jog, though," says Harry, shaking his head. "I like being fit, but it's actually an unholy time for that."

"I do it when I have the chance is all," Liam explains. Or admits. He's not sure. "Not a lot. I used to box."

"Woah." Harry pulls his knees up, rests his feet on the rung of the stool. "That's sick. I mean, no offense, but you don't strike me as the type to punch someone."

He can feel Harry's eyes on him even as his own gaze falls to the floor. "No. I mean, I'm not. Not really."

"Another reason, then," guesses Harry. Before Liam can respond, Harry gets up and walks over, wrapping Liam in a tight, drowsy hug. His head sort of lolls on Liam's shoulder. "You're great." He pulls back and takes Liam's empty mug. "I think you're great."

Liam laughs in surprise, feels a surge of warmth go through his gut and down to his toes. Harry smiles back and rinses out their cups to put in the drainer.

Harry starts talking again soon, and they talk about tattoos they'd like to get, places they'd like to visit, weird stories they've had to tell to cover up their dream. Harry is so kind, there's a softness to him that Liam adores – it's different to Zayn. Where Zayn is quiet and honest, Harry is slow and light, and he tells the worst puns of anyone Liam has ever met, funny in a way that's different to Louis. Liam's enchanted by him.

 

They eat leftover pizza for breakfast and then Harry has a shower. They're sitting together on the couch, Harry on his phone and Liam listening to music through one earbud, when Louis comes shuffling out of the spare room. His hair is performing some amazing feat of anti-gravity and he's squinting at both of them like he doesn't quite remember who they are.

"Morning," says Liam cautiously.

"Not—" Louis yawns, quickly puts a hand up to his mouth to stifle it. "—Sorry, not afternoon?"

Liam's already laughing, and he doesn't even know why it's funny. "No, not afternoon."

Louis squints harder and points at them. "Count yourselves lucky to even see me at this hour," he growls, and Liam and Harry chuckle together at that.

"Okay, Louis, if you say so," Harry murmurs, patiently.

Louis jabs his finger again for emphasis and then shuffles into the kitchen. There's the sound of the kettle being filled again.

"Where're your mugs?" he yells, as if they're on the other side of the house and not in the next room. "I want one with cats on it."

"Second cabinet to the right," Harry calls. There's a bang and a plaintive, disgruntled sound almost like a meow. Harry mutters, "your other right?" under his breath.

"What?" Louis says.

"Nothing." Harry rolls his eyes. "Let me come get it."

Liam shifts to let him get up, sighing at the loss of heat. Harry gives him an apologetic smile.

 

The morning seems to race by; they sit in the living room with the TV on and they talk and Louis makes them both laugh so hard they're nearly crying. Liam has never been around people this comfortable and relaxed, people who seemed to like him this much, and absolutely never has he been around people who will give him hickies a lot. He's enjoying it quite a bit. Except the last one, his feelings are still mixed on that.

 

It's mid morning when Louis starts to complain. "Come _on_ , Zayn," he whinges at the spare room. "You've been asleep for, like, eight years!"

Harry hushes him. "He can sleep in if he needs it," he says, tone very maternal. Then he continues, "which he does, since he has to deal with you all the time."

With a roar of outrage, Louis tackles him and pins him, insisting he apologise. Before Harry's resolve falters, the TV plays the opening to Rihanna's latest single. Gleeful, Louis releases Harry and instead pulls Liam up to dance with him, singing really loudly. But not badly, Liam notices. Louis sings surprisingly well.

The song ends to Louis's (and Liam's) disappointment. "Surely you have Rihanna's album," Louis says to Harry. "C'mon, mate, _surely_."

As it turns out, Harry has three Rihanna albums in the house. "They're not mine," he protests. "They're Gemma's!" and Louis knows most of the words. By the end of _Disturbia_ , they're all belting along, and that's when Zayn enters the scene. He looks unnaturally model-esque even as he leaves bed, lips forming a thicker pout than ever.

He takes one look at them, Harry standing on the coffee table, Louis using a TV remote as a microphone, and Liam, who was dancing, and says, in a tone of great exasperation, "White boys."

They all start laughing, and while Zayn barely cracks a smile (not a morning person, Liam remembers from their camping trip) he comes to hug them, one by one. When he pulls away from Liam, Liam takes Zayn's face into his hands and inspects him.

"You good?" he asks.

"Yeah," answers Zayn, swatting loosely at him. "Great."

There's a pause, and then Louis and Harry resume singing in unison, now somewhere halfway through _Only Girl in the World_. Zayn hums along as he rests on Liam, his body still clumsy with sleep. Liam sings, too, but very quietly.

 

It's a montage from there, more than anything else; playing football and ordering fish 'n' chips for dinner, and him and Louis going to pick it up and brushing his teeth next to three other boys at the sink. He lets himself wonder if this is what having brothers would be like. Minus the kissing, of course, and the whole Louis-and-Zayn-being-married thing.

 

Speaking of – when they're all in the living room, the newest Drake album at a decent volume (Liam was worried about neighbours at first, and then he remembered there aren't any), Louis jumps onto the table and declares, "Me and Zayn have an announcement we'd like to make!"

Zayn beams like sunshine, eyes glittery and happy. "Go on, then."

Louis clears his throat. "We're getting married!"

Drake goes on about getting rich and beating racism in the background. Liam glances at Harry, wondering if he's missed something obvious, but Harry looks as confused as Liam feels.

"Sorry," says Harry, "but like, aren't you already married?"

Zayn covers his mouth as he giggles – Liam will never get over that giggle – and Louis rolls his eyes. " _Nooo_ ," he moans. "I mean. Well. Yes. But not really. I asked Zayn ages ago, and we both assumed the answer was yes, but he actually said _YES_ last night. So! We're getting married!"

Liam feels that that's worthy of some reaction, so he says, "Congratulations!"

Taking a swooping bow, Louis lifts Zayn's hand, flicking the ring, which is dark blue. Liam doesn't know what that means, but he doesn't have to. Zayn's feelings are written all over his face.

 

They dance and sing til they're a worn out, laughing pile of boys on the floor, and then the X-Box comes out. It's far too late by the time Zayn and Louis do goodnight hugs and kisses, and Louis coos, "Sweet dreams!" which makes them all laugh.

Once they've gone into their room, giggling and tripping and holding hands, Liam feels rather like the day has rushed through to finish the way it started, with him and Harry.

Harry smiles sleepily at him and offers him Zayn's abandoned controller. Hesitant, Liam accepts it.

The game is a FPS and it's very violent and fast-moving, and the goal of the multiplayer is to kill each other. It feels a lot more peaceful than that, though, with the sound turned right down and Harry nodding off at Liam's side.

Liam slowly boots the console down. When Harry doesn't stir, Liam pauses, looking down at him. His mouth is open, and his beanie is concealing part of his face.

Liam looks around. He could lift Harry onto the couch, probably not up the stairs (and that suits him fine, he'd rather have Harry here if he can).

Carrying Harry is harder than he thought it would be, but he manages it, and then he collapses on the couch. With clumsy hands, he tugs their blanket over them and stretches his legs out, bumps Harry's wrist with his heel.

The last two thoughts he has before he falls asleep are, _I think this is the latest I've ever stayed up,_ and, _I wouldn't mind doing this for the rest of my life._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Panic attack warning for this chapter!


	6. Chapter 6

Louis has a very intense sense of _deja vu_ leading up to the visit. The same cooking mania from his mum, the same morning squeals from his sisters, the same piles of laundry on the bed in the afternoon.

 

Details differ. The day before, he got into a fight with a kid who called Liam names. Not quite a brawl, because there were no punches thrown or tackles given, but when Mr. Brown found them, Louis had shoved the boy against a locker, hands fisted in his shirt. In hindsight, a teacher's appearance was probably a good thing, because Louis is very small and while his legs are ' _as strong as ten oxes_ ' in the words of one Harry Styles, he is still easily overpowered by someone a foot taller than himself.

They got off without detention, Mr. Brown being a gentle man who wants people to get along and coexist and whatever. They shook hands and once everyone was gone, the boy muttered sorry, and Louis growled, "Jolly hope you are."

He also hugged Liam that day, for quite a long time, in between classes. Exams approaching, they hadn't seen the other two all week, and being separated throughout the day was putting them both wildly on edge.

Louis snagged Liam by the wrist as everyone spilled out into the corridor and pulled him into the closest empty classroom. Liam looked to be near tears of relief; Louis could see how tense he was, how his hands were clenched into fists at his sides. They unfurled when Louis prompted them to and spread around Louis's back instead.

"It's like everything's louder," Liam mumbled into his shoulder, "like it's all crowding in around you."

"I know," said Louis, because he really does, and he pinched Liam's thigh to distract him.

 

In short, Louis's yesterday is very different this time and while parts of it are familiar, their first meal with Zayn feels a lifetime ago.

Zayn is first to arrive, too. He texts Louis half an hour before to warn him.

_From: Arty Kid_

_To: The Tommo_

_Had to catch the early bus, see you soon :) xx_

He's wearing glasses; less of a shock now, more a warm buzz in Louis's toes. He totes his new messenger bag – the one he phoned Louis about at four in the morning because he'd forgotten to mention it – and he looks more himself, this time, Louis thinks, despite the fact that he's in pretty much the same clothes as before. He greets Louis's mum with a kiss to the cheek and says it's lovely to see her, hopes his earliness isn't going to inconvenience her. She says no, of course not, always a pleasure. They escape Louis's little sisters in the nick of time, making it up the stairs as they come in the back door.

Zayn, not to Louis's surprise, looks a little worn, a little weak, and Louis feels that way, too, even though they phone every night, even though he catches glances and brushes of hands with Liam at school, so when Zayn comes in for a hug, Louis holds him extra tight.

 

They catch up for awhile, sitting on Louis's bed, talking about school and the essays they haven't quite finished, the book chapters they have to read. Then there's the sound of tires in the driveway, and they look at each other. They wear mirrored expressions of excitement.

Liam's sister waves goodbye as she drives off. Liam stands on the driveway, hands in his pockets, chewing his lip.

"You're a big baby, you can come inside," Louis tells him, because he loves him a lot, and they hug – not for as long as him and Zayn, because after all, they did see each other the day before. Zayn and Liam exchange backslaps and greetings and til they reach Louis's front door, Zayn laces their fingers together.

As expected by everyone, Louis's mum loves Liam right off the bat. Louis isn't sure what it is; it must be the ski-jump nose or the eye crinkles (both admittedly endearing), but _something_ guarantees Liam the love of any mother he meets. He's only just got here, and he's introduced himself to all of Louis's siblings and ended up offering to help Louis's mum in the kitchen.

Zayn sighs as he watches Liam give one of the girls a piggyback and fetch the vegetable oil for Louis's mum at once. "He makes me feel like a bad friend."

"It's okay." Louis pats him on the shoulder. "He makes me feel like a bad son."

 

Louis is nearly starting to worry about Harry when he turns up, five minutes to spare. "Hiii," he calls, as he shucks off his shoes at the door. "I'm so sorry, Jay, my mum got lost driving me here."

Upon seeing his mum's reaction to Harry's dimply, apologetic smile, Louis resigns himself to never being his mum's favourite teenage boy ever again. Zayn keens in sympathy.

Harry, of all of them, seems nervous. Liam gives him a quick hug before accompanying Louis's mum to help set the table and that makes him smile, but when it's him and Zayn and Louis, he seems unsure of himself.

It's easy, to forget how new Harry is to their group. Louis feels as though he's known him all his life, and normally they get on without a hitch. Now, though, all three of them standing there, the only sound is the twins chasing each other upstairs.

"I will not stand for this," Louis decides. "Both of you, come here, we're hugging this out."

Harry laughs, and Zayn complies without a second thought. Louis doesn't let them go until Harry has fully relaxed, and even then as he pulls back, he tussles Harry's hair for good measure.

"Thank god," Harry sighs. "I don't know, I got myself all worked up, like, you know when you go on summer camp, and everyone's super close, and then you come back and things are different? I was worried it was gonna be like that, that's all."

Louis and Zayn look at each other and form a silent pact not to laugh. "Don't worry," Zayn assures him, "our friendships are weird all the time."

 

At the table, the twins sit on Liam's knees despite Louis's mum's initial protests. It makes it hard for Liam to get to his dinner, but he seems happy. Zayn and Harry sit on either side of Louis, and he pretends he can't feel them batting at each other's feet over his shins.

Louis's mum interrogates them all a lot, and Liam does most of the talking, to Zayn and Harry's near-tangible relief. Louis is again struck by how much this feels like the first time he brought a girl home to meet his family. Only, this girl is three people who tend to smell a lot different to girls and are more likely to scruff their socked toes against Louis's ankles when he seems uncertain than any girlfriend he's ever had.

Dessert is ice cream and tinned fruit, and the boys are all so _delighted._ Louis has to focus on his lap in an effort to compose his face into a less goofy expression.

Once they've eaten that, they all sit and chat for awhile, Harry's nerves soothed enough that he talks to Louis's mum. He says his mum would love to meet her, and then all the boys are giving Louis's mum their mum's numbers and she looks really happy about it, and again Louis tries to quell the grin fighting its way across his face.

 

Zayn checks the time, and he has to go to catch the bus, so they all get up to hug him goodbye. As he's heading for the door, Liam clears his throat and says, "Louis, you should probably walk him out, say goodbye properly, right, Zayn?"

Zayn pauses, blinks, and then starts. "Oh! Yeah, he's right."

Louis glances at Harry, who gives a knowing shrug and a bratty grin.

Louis's mum nods along. "Go see him off," she tells Louis, and feeling rather like there's a joke he's missed, Louis goes outside.

"What's going on?" he demands, tugging Zayn's shirt sleeve. "You've all gone and made an in-joke without me! _Again!_ "

Zayn laughs and stops as they reach the end of the driveway. "That was really nice," he says. His hands go to his pockets.

"I'm glad," Louis answers. "Were you trying to get me alone?"

"Tell your mum thanks for the great food," Zayn carries on resolutely, as though he didn't hear Louis at all.

"Did you want to kiss me?" Louis continues. He prides himself on being painfully stubborn. "Cause you can. I'm right here, nobody's watching."

Louis thinks that Zayn has gone quite pink, although the way the light from the upstairs of his house falls, he can only really make out Zayn's eyelashes, the shadow of them on his cheeks.

"I wanted to give you this," Zayn murmurs, and then he's pressing something cool and round into Louis's hand. "G'night, Ironman," he says, all smug, and then he leaves.

Louis opens his hand. In his palm sits a ring, a mood ring, identical to the one he gave Zayn, except when he looks close, he sees an inscription. It bears their initials, and Louis's eyes burn.

 

He stands there with it in his hand, in the silence of his street, and then he puts the ring in his pocket and returns inside.

His mum and Liam are watching telly, and Harry is reading the kids their favourite story. Zayn saw that book on his first visit to Louis's house and got unreasonably excited. (" ' _There's a Monster at the End of This Book!_ ' My god, that's a good book. That's one of my favourite books.")

They all look happy and contented and _settled_ , Liam sipping tea from Louis's mum's fourth favourite mug, and the girls bundling around Harry like they do this every night. Louis's fingers are still tightly wrapped around Zayn's ring in his pocket, and he aches.

Not the dream ache, not the separaton ache. It's a good ache, a safe ache. There's still something missing, but for now (he squishes in next to Harry on the armchair, half in his lap) this is enough.

 

Unfortunately for everyone, they have to go home eventually. Liam helps Harry into his coat and gives Louis a hug and a smile and a promise of catching up soon, and Harry is thanking Louis's mum yet again for the food, kissing her on the cheek as a farewell. Louis suddenly feels thirty years old, imagines having them over for dinner in his own home. He wonders, for the first time, how long this is all going to last.

He and his mum wave them off (Liam walking Harry into town to the bus stop, near where he's going to meet his own mother) and stand together on the drive for a few minutes once they're gone.

"They're really nice boys, Louis," she says.

"You like them?" he asks, nonchalant as he can.

"Very much." She looks at him. "Why?"

"I've just," he shrugs, leading her back inside, "I've just got a feeling, like they're going to be sticking around for awhile."

 

Harry hasn't seen any of them since the dinner at Louis's – with exams upon them, nobody has any time. They text him a lot – Louis mostly complaining, with things like _'why must there be SO MUCH HISTORY!'_ And, ' _literally an entire formative essay on the splitting of a molecule everything sucks'_ and ' _come over and lie with me so i can nap :('_.

Liam, though they all know he's struggling the most academically, is like a cheersquad and a second mum at once. His group texts are all peptalky like, ' _you're going to ace thisss!! drink lots of water :)'_ and ' _make sure ur in bed by midnite dont want to overworkk'_ as if he doesn't work longer and harder than all of them.

Zayn is slightly shyer, all ' _what're you studying now?'_ Or ' _have you heard this rihanna song before?'_ Except one night near 1AM, when Hary is still up finishing an assignment, he gets one that says, ' _lying awake cant sleep because i miss you all'_. He calls Zayn and reads him the chapter of science he needs to analyse until he's calmed enough to go to sleep. Harry murmurs, "Sweet dreams," and hangs up, ready to sleep himself.

 

Being away is hard all the same. Though quite sensitive, Harry is generally pretty chilled out so he's not used to the nerves that won't stop wearing on him, making him feel constantly on-edge. One day before a test, he finds himself in the bathroom, the combination of both unavoidable and unnecessary stress making him sure he's going to vomit. He can't phone Liam or Louis because he knows for a fact that they're in an exam right now. His mum would be an option, but he remembers she‘s having lunch out with a friend, and he doesn't know how he'd explain it to her anyway.

Then he thinks to call Zayn. There's a chance he's still in class and a chance he's not. Praying, Harry takes that chance and dials. He feels really sick, and his neck is all prickly, but he feels safe to open his mouth, which he didn't before.

"Hey," says Zayn's voice, and Harry breathes out. "Y'alright?"

"Hi, Zayn," he croaks back, and his voice is shakier than he'd like.

"Babe, you okay?" It's not a greeting now. Zayn's tone is thick with concern.

"I think so," Harry answers. "I mean, I'm kind of freaking out. Not because of anything," he adds, "I'm in school."

Zayn crackles for a minute and then he's back."I'm in a supply closet," he says. "That's how much I love you."

Harry laughs. His forearms still feel like they have no circulating blood, and his face is dry and hot and his eyes sting, but he feels better somehow. "That's a lot," he says.

"Bloody right it is," says Zayn. "I'm sitting on a bucket, that's how much." He shifts. Harry hears something bang in the background. "Sorry," Zayn grunts, "knocked the mop."

Harry laughs again, more out of instinct than anything.

"So, what's up?"

Zayn's voice turns softer in a way Harry recognises. He knows they all use this tone on each other in their own ways; this soothing, warm tone, like trying to give a hug with your voice. It makes him feel a little less like spewing.

"Have an exam this afternoon," Harry says.

"Uh huh." Zayn's voice has a tad of sarcasm in it. "I miss you, too," he adds, and Harry's stomach lurches.

"Will it be like this forever?" Harry asks, weaker than he'd like. He knows Zayn doesn't have an answer; knows that none of them do.

"Well," says Zayn, "if it is, we'll all move in together. Your folks could probably buy us a house, right? So we get a house, we bring your X-Box and my comic book collection, and you and Liam cook and we'll make Louis do all the laundry. And we'll get jobs where we see each other heaps."

"Like be in a band?" suggests Harry, hopeful. He's too soft for it, he knows, but he's only human. He has fantasies of being a rock star just like anybody else.

"Exactly," agrees Zayn. "We'll do world tours and all sleep in one hotel room."

Harry is silent for a moment. Staring at the back of this cubicle door, he's starting to see patterns in the marks on it. There's tiny, faded graffiti under the handle, but he can't make out what it says.

He pushes his hair back, shoving it up under his beanie, and gives the other, equally frightening possibility. "And then, if it doesn't stay this way?"

Zayn murmurs back, "We can do all that stuff anyway."

A smile spreads across Harry's face, the type of instinctive smile that only occurs when no one is watching. "Sounds good."

 

Eventually, his final exams are upon him, and then they are past. He wakes up from the dream to the last day of the school year, and it's wonderful and really strange; he hugs lots of classmates who have barely spoken to him and wishes a lot of people a good summer. As he's unpacking everything from his locker, his phone buzzes in his pocket.

 _From: The Fit One_  
 _To: Arty Kid, Harold_  
Hey!!! long time no see...me and Liam are heading to the park care to join us lads ?? ;)))

Harry feels his smile growing and also feels stranger by the moment. There's so much time ahead of him now to see them, and yet it's all he wants to do, right away. He texts back.

 _From: Harold_  
 _To: The Fit One_  
give me half an hour. I'll catch the bus. x

He wonders if maybe they should see a doctor.

This thought doesn't spend a long time in his mind. It doesn't have space, because in a few minutes, he's closing his locker and then hugging more people – one girl is crying – and as he walks through the car park, he lingers for a moment on what his summer plans might have been if he hadn't started having this dream. He has no idea.

 

The bus ride is mostly uneventful. Well, besides texts from Louis, updating him what's happening, such as ' _tell Liam you love me more than him :('_ and ' _trying to convince him to go on the swingset all the way round! :D'_ and then, ' _ZAYN'S HERE! He says we shouldn't go the way round on the swings :/ what a spoil sport right'._

They make Harry laugh and also miss Louis so much his belly flips. When he reaches the stop, he's about ready to run from there to the park. Upon the bus slowing, however, he realises that he won't have to.

Louis is the first one he notices, jumping up and down and waving his hands in the air wildly. Liam looks very abashed on Louis's behalf, but it's hard to take him any more seriously when he's laughing so hard he's doubled over. Watching them both, Zayn has a cig between his fingers and a fond look on his face. Harry has missed them so much he feels he could explode.

He stammers and drops two coins when paying the bus driver, who is a very lovely old lady he's seen around town before. She keeps saying, "It's alright, love," and looking out the window and smiling. "I can see you're excited. Don't get in a tizzy."

He doesn't quite know how to explain how much of a tizzy he's in, so instead he thanks her and apologises (again) and then bounces off the bus.

The resounding whoop of the others makes his cheeks burn and his chest relax and his face break into a huge grin. Everything feels good and clear again, and the tiny part that doesn't is easy enough to push aside in his excitement.

First to hug him is Louis, tight and fervent, still bouncing up and down. Harry holds him back just as firmly, fingers curling over Louis's soft curved back. They only pull apart when they feel ready, Louis saying, "Reckon you've passed your classes, Curly?" and nodding sympathetically at Harry's noncommital shrug.

Next is Liam, nose and cheeks pink from the heat. He still seems more nervous with his hugs, more reserved, but it's warmer than it was, and he doesn't move back til Harry does, all crinkled eyes and glowing smile. Harry sees some of dream-Liam in that. Liam pats Harry's cheek and says, "Doing alright, yeah?" and Harry nods and smiles bigger.

Zayn puts his arms around Harry and squeezes, unexpectedly fierce. Reciprocation is habit to Harry, and he moves with it, lets Zayn pull his head into Zayn's shoulder and hold him. To Harry's surprise, Zayn smells really good. He wonders how this has escaped his notice before.

"Good to see you," whispers Zayn, raw and honest, and for a moment, Harry has a very powerful urge to surround Zayn like Zayn surrounds him, so nothing in the world can ever hurt him.

They stand for a long moment, holding on to each other for dear life. As Zayn pulls back, Harry realises that Louis and Liam have disappeared. On cue, they come storming back around the corner, Liam holding Louis piggyback style.

"I think we made a lollipop woman very angry," says Louis, remaining dignified while beneath him Liam is losing it laughing. "Good friends, I suggest we make haste."

They don't really, because Liam, while strong, can only sprint for so long with Louis as a burden, and Zayn is, as they all already know, incredibly opposed to aggressive movement when he can avoid it. Harry therefore feels understandably wronged when Louis says, "Harold, you are _so slow._ Remind me to _never_ have you on my zombie apocalypse survival team. You at least half our potential speed."

Liam is giggling again. To Harry's indignance, Zayn decides to join them, beaming. "It's kind of true, y'know. How can such long legs keep such awful pace?"

"Heyyy," Harry says. He feels this is all very unjust, but when he tells them so they all laugh. He likes them a lot, considering.

 

The park's only other occupants are a small girl and her mother; she looks nervous upon their arrival, but Louis immediately senses her discomfort and dismounts Liam. He introduces himself to her and asks how old her daughter is, and soon he's got a full-blown conversation happening. Liam smiles and murmurs, "How does he do that?" and Zayn makes a wistful sound of agreement. Even Harry, normally good with people, is a bit envious.

Harry finds a nice spot under a tree nearby and lays down. Liam joins him quite soon after, uncertain smile turning into a grin, more confident, when Harry throws a leg over his and links their fingers together. Shyly, Liam says, "I think you'd really suit arm tattoos."

"You think so? I'm pretty keen on getting some on my torso, actually. Like my chest and stomach and stuff."

With his free hand cradling his head, eyes eager and interested, Liam asks, "What would you get?"

As they're talking, Harry catches glimpses of the other two, still with the baby girl and her mum. Harry loves babies, but he's not particularly good with them, and Louis seems to be having a grand time. Zayn follows after, doesn't participate as much, but he's laughing and smiling and his cig is nowhere in sight. When Liam goes quiet for awhile and closes his eyes, Harry looks over to see Louis and the little girl sitting together on top of Zayn, chatting away like they're old friends out to lunch and not like they're a few moments away from destroying Zayn's internal organs.

Liam looks quite fragile when he's asleep, especially as he's so exhausted. Harry rubs the back of Liam's hand with his thumb, tries to imagine how Liam's arms would look if they were covered in the tattoos he was telling Harry about. He traces them carefully down Liam's forearm.

Liam stirs, blinks at Harry for a moment, and then says, "Hi," and closes his eyes again.

Harry smiles, murmurs, "Hi," back, and lets him sleep.

The little girl's mother comes to him. "Can I sit here?" she asks. "To get out of the sun."

"Of course," Harry answers. If he feels tired, it's nothing compared to how she looks. Tired and amazing. Her hair is incredible, he notes. "I'm Harry, by the way." He sits up, slides his hand out of Liam's, and she shakes it.

"Nice to meet you," she says. "I'm Lou."

"Sorry about Louis," adds Harry, as he sees Louis now encouraging Zayn to lie down in the sandpit so he can be buried.

She laughs. "He's certainly got a spark," she says. He can't tell whether that's good or bad. "He says you all have sisters?"

Nodding, Harry stifles a yawn. "Yeah, me and Liam have older, Louis has younger. Zayn has both." He watches Louis give in and agree to be buried instead. "Does your daughter have any siblings?"

"No, no, it's just her so far," she laughs. She has a delicate, small laugh. "I don't know if I could handle another one, though I love her very much."

"Fair enough, too."

They watch Zayn and the little girl gleefully pour sand over Louis's body.

She glances at him and then at Liam, sound asleep now, curled into Harry's side. "Boyfriend?" she guesses.

"Oh," says Harry, feeling suddenly very warm in the face, "Uhm, good friend. He's wiped, we had exams."

"Of course, I understand. Name?"

"Liam," says Harry, and he's unable to keep the fondness out of his voice.

She tilts her head, smiling, as if about to speak, but then the little girl comes toddling over, sniffling and clinging to Zayn's hand. He looks panicked.

"I'm so sorry," says Zayn, "she fell, I think, she's alright, but she wanted to see you. Sorry."

"Don't worry, love," says Lou, picking the little girl up and soothing her. "She'll be fine, you watch. Won't you, darling? I give it two minutes."

Zayn nods, but still looks guilty – Harry reaches up and brushes some sand off his arm. Zayn slumps down cross-legged next to him

Louis joins them, too, shaking himself clean of the sand as best he can manage. "It's all _over_ me!" he complains, like he expected anything different.

"Aw, babe," says Zayn blandly, still watching the little girl to check she's okay. Louis and he bump rings as Louis lies down and puts his head on Zayn's lap. Lou smiles at them, and once her little one is hushed, she tells them, "It's lovely to see you're all so close."

Louis beams at her, sitting up so he's resting back against Zayn's chest. "We're glad you think so, aren't we, lads? I phoned my dad the other day, and I was telling him about this lot, and all he had to say was, like." Here he adopts a comically gruff voice. " _Oh. Yeah. Got a girlfriend yet?_ "

They laugh, but Harry feels a tiny bit odd. Louis's never brought his father up before, and Harry's never pried. He seems okay, though, doesn't get withdrawn or moody like he does sometimes, so Harry lets it go.

"How did you all meet?" she asks, letting go of her girl, who rushes over to Zayn and plonks down next to him, much to his joy. At her question, Zayn automatically looks down to Louis, and Harry does the same. Louis appears very excited.

"Oh, it's a long story," he says, obviously intending to tell it, "quite a good one, mind, see, 'cause me and Zayn, we met at the coffee shop, right? I was in there in the first place, 'cause..."

 

Summer is great; it's hot and happy and all Louis wants to do is be with his boys, and he can be, mostly. If his mum needs him home to mind the girls, the others come over. They're all more than happy to be with his sisters. Their voices and touches, Harry pretending to be a pony, Zayn drawing little cartoony princess versions of each of the girls, Liam in the kitchen washing dishes ("Cause you do it so much, I thought I'd give you a break") – it all makes Louis feel immeasurably safe.

Sometimes Zayn needs ten minutes to go into the other room and put his headphones on and to be alone. Sometimes Harry gets whingey and clingy and snappish. Sometimes Liam shouts out of the blue and then goes all teary and wobbly-lipped because of something they hadn't even noticed.

They're all so worth it.

 


	7. Chapter 7

Spiderman is the film of choice the afternoon Liam's late. The Blu-Ray menu has played through several times, and he's still not arrived at Harry's, despite living the closest.

"Do we wait?" asks Harry, chewing his lower lip.

"I'll call him," decides Louis, "gimme a tick."

He ducks outside to phone, fidgeting and putting his hands in his pockets. "Hi, bro," he says, when it picks up.

"Hi, Louis!" replies Liam. "Sorry I'm running late, I had. Somethin'. Anyway! Nearly there now, don't wait for me! I've seen it before anyway."

Liam is definitely stressed, Louis can hear it. "Okay, babe," he says slowly. "You on speaker?"

"Yeah," Liam says, "Mum's holding the phone."

That explains the bravado, which Louis is certain it is. "Hi, Mrs Payne, hope you're alright!" he says, and she says hello back. "Okay, Liam, see you when you get here. Love ya."

"Yeah, uhm, yeah," says Liam and stammers something that _could_ be ' _love you too_ ' in Gaelic. Louis isn't sure.

Liam hangs up.

"Do either of you speak Irish?" he asks, when he comes back inside.

"I DO!" Harry sticks his hand straight up in the air. When Louis actually looks at him, he drops it a bit, seems shyer. "I mean, only a bit. What's up?"

"How do you say ' _I love you_ '?"

Zayn groans.

"Oh, hush," Harry chides, "don't crush his romantic spirit." In a slightly stumbling tongue, he recites an unfamiliar phrase.

It could be Harry's accent, but that's definitely not what Liam said. "Oh well," Louis sighs and flops onto Zayn's lap. "Go ahead, he said to start without him."

He tries to stay as casual as possible – no point worrying the boys about something he's not even sure of – but inside, he's pretty worried. The sooner Liam gets there, the better.

Peter Parker has already met Gwen when there's a ring of the doorbell. "I'll get it," Louis insists and goes for it before anyone could argue.

When Louis opens the door, Liam is freaking out. He's pale, and his eyes are doing that dark, focused thing they do. He's biting his lip very hard and his hands are in fists at his side.

"Louis," says Liam. "I'm freaking out."

"I can see that," Louis replies and ushers him in.

The movie goes straight on pause, and Zayn and Harry keep shooting Louis looks, like they're waiting for him to do something.

"What's wrong?" Louis asks eventually.

"It's okay," answers Liam, too quickly. "I mean, it will be."

"Has somebody died?" Harry whispers.

Liam laughs, rubs his face. "No, it's nothing half that bad, only. I've got to go away for awhile."

Louis exchanges a look with the other two. "How long?"

"Ten days?" Liam says uncertainly. "Two weeks? My dad has a break, he never gets one, and we're going to stay with family. I can't not go."

"How far?" asks Zayn, eyebrows drawn tight together.

"Far," Liam tells him sadly. "We leave on Monday."

"I call group hug," Harry declares, and they all gather forward to crush Liam in their midst. They sit there like that for some time, like they could compress all the worry out of him. He doesn't protest.

"Right," says Louis, as they pull back. His mind is racing, has been the whole time. "Operation Arachnid Viewing is in the can. We have a new mission."

"Yes sir." Harry salutes him. "Ready for. Uh. For..."

"Debriefing?" provides Zayn.

"Yeah," says Harry. "That."

"New mission," repeats Louis. "Here's what we're going to do."

Operation Make Sure Liam Doesn't Die, abbreviated to MSLDD (initially pronounced EM-ESS-ELL-DEE-DEE and eventually becoming Codename: A Mess) requires five sheets of paper, four pens, seven unicorn stickers from Louis's personal stash, and 24 hours to help Liam pack.

Louis diagrammes their individual assignments in a thought chain on one page, and on the other side they all make lists that they copy to their own sheet of paper. Louis's code name is Honey Badger; Zayn is Green Lantern; Harry is Barbie, by popular demand; and Liam is Teddy Bear, despite any protests he tries to make.

"Alright, team," Louis says, slamming his hand down on the table so that he feels important and in-charge. "You all understand Codename: A Mess?"

The other three nod back at him. Zayn's mouth is tilted in a small smirk, Harry is beaming ear to ear. Liam is possibly a bit teary. Louis loves him and hurts for him so much that his Cool Spy Boss demeanour almost drops.

Key word being ' _almost_ '. He slides on his sunglasses and orders, "Move out."

Harry snatches his piece of paper and takes off upstairs, long limbs flailing as he narrowly avoids a collision with his mum. She peers at him curiously, frowning as she turns to them. "What's going on?"

Their layout map of the town is still on the table in front of Louis, and they're all holding instruction sheets, labelled with unicorn stickers. Louis is wearing his sunglasses and holding a mock shotglass of orange juice in one hand. Liam is about to die of stifled giggles.

"Nothing," answers Louis, completely straight-faced, and behind him Liam loses it.

She arches an eyebrow and says, "If anything mysteriously disintegrates, you're the first suspect, Mr Tomlinson."

" _Anne_! You wound me," Louis cries.

She shakes her head and continues away into the kitchen.

As soon as she's out of hearing range, Louis slams his hand down again. "Go!"

Zayn shoots off to the door, but before Louis can follow him, Liam grabs his wrist.

"Yeah?" Louis says, because they're in a hurry.

"I, uhm, I just, well." Liam takes a breath. He doesn't talk well when he's rushed. "I wanted to, like. Thanks."

Look, Louis tries his best to stay serious, but he's only human. "Come on, Payno. Love you."

Liam ducks forward and presses a quick kiss to Louis's cheek. "Okay. Let's go."

 

They rendevous at Liam's the next morning. Louis has been there since the night before, having dropped home to pick up some things. When Harry comes in at approximately 10:01 AM, he throws his backpack down and reports.

"Okay, Honey Badger, I've got everything on my list – " he pats his bag " – plus a mix CD I burned this morning. Mum's talking to Karen, so I give us about seven minutes diversion for us to get this stuff up to Teddy Bear's room. Green Lantern has to arrive within that time. If he's not here, I sketched a design for a pulley system we could build to transport things up to his bedroom via the window without being seen, but – "

"Thank you, Barbie," says Louis sternly, but drops character for a moment to say, "Harry, have you considered being a secret agent?"

Harry gives a shy smile. "I wanted to, but I heard they won't take you if you've illegally downloaded music."

They wait, but Zayn doesn't show until after Harry's mum has left. It doesn't end up mattering very much, because Liam's mum sticks her head into the living room very briefly, says she's going out for morning tea with some friends, she'll be back later, but they're to call her if they need anything.

Mere moments after she's gone, Zayn strolls in, backpack slung over one shoulder and coffee in his other hand. "It's too early to be alive," he whispers pathetically. Harry crosses his arms and glares at Zayn, who takes a moment to catch on. "Oh. Right. Hi, Barbie: Life in the Dream House, and... what are we calling you again? Ant-eater?"

His grin gives him away. Louis was very nearly offended. "Report, Green Lantern."

"Got my stuff," answers Zayn and gestures to his styrofoam travel cup. "And coffee. Reckon he needs it."

"Good call," Louis says. "He's upstairs packing, and when Harry got here, he said to delay you guys, but I think we're good to go now." Liam had sat on the end of his bed and put his head in his hands, asked for a moment alone. Louis had done his best.

Harry looks at Zayn, who shrugs and says, "Alright."

As they traipse up the stairs, Louis sneaks a look at Zayn's mood ring. He's worried, if it's to be trusted.

"Hi, Teddy Bear," Harry calls, knocking on the door. "Can we come in?

"Hi," Liam replies, "As long as you don't laugh at my underwear or step on anything precious!"

His room looks like a bomb's gone off. There are clothes strewn every which way, and he's sitting on his bed, looking very overwhelmed.

"Don't give us that sad face," says Zayn at once, "Please, it makes me cry."

"Why aren't any of us neat?" Harry laments softly.

Liam sighs and opens his arms. "Hugs?" he says, like he's not sure he should.

Getting to him at high speeds without breaking anything valuable is difficult, but they manage it. All of them pile onto him and hold him tight until he relaxes and seems ready to pull away.

"Okay!" he says, sitting up. "What's our schedule looking like, Honey Badger?"

Between the logistics and the decisions and lots of folding and unfolding and so much helpless laughter (and one badly-thought-out pillow fight that nearly ends in breaking Liam's alarm clock) the process of sorting and packing takes a few hours.

Checklists are not something that tend to play a large part in Louis's life, but Liam insists on it to keep track of everything, and Louis has to admit that checking boxes is unfairly satisfying. He can see why teachers enjoy it.

Liam has to fend off his mum a few times when she gets back, mostly because he says she'd have a fit if she saw his room.

Louis knows that Liam is embarrassed about all their stuff, and that's alright.

 

"Checklist!" declares Louis once Liam places the last folded t-shirt on the pile on his bed. Zayn sits next to Louis on Liam's beanbag, and Harry slumps down cross-legged on a bare patch of floor.

Louis's Complete Compiled Checklist reads:

_Zayn:Batman T-shirt, grey pullover, THOR: Volume #18, purple pillowcase, bar of soap  
Harry: mix CD, 3 plaid flannels, can of deodorant, beanie_

_Louis: blanket, boxers_ (because he's hilarious) _, 2 tanks (1 grey, 1 white with a skateboarder), bottle of nail polish_

Liam looks quite overcome and puts his face in his hands for a second. Dutifully, they look the other way.

"You lads can like," Liam gestures around the room, where his spare clothing lie strewn about, "take some, if you want."

Giving Liam a moment to collect himself without leaving him alone is a skill Louis is perfecting. He jumps for Liam's Batman pajama shirt, cheering as he grabs it and Zayn curses him loudly.  
"You saw my eye on that, you git," he huffs. Louis blows him a kiss.

 

Their respective parents arrive to bring them home for tea a few hours later, by which time everything has been forced into Liam's suitcase, each of them have ther own pile of Liam's clothes, his room has been restored to its usual level of mess, and Zayn is asleep on Liam's bed. They stir him as his mum arrives, because they want him to be at least semi-alive for goodbyes.

Harry has to leave first, because his stepfather has come to pick him up and the idea of forcing him and Louis's mum to make small talk for a long time is cringe-worthy.

"I'll miss you," Harry says, arms tight around Liam's shoulders, and he makes it sound like a promise.

"You too," Liam replies, and Harry gives him a smacking kiss on the cheek, grabs his coat and his bag of Liam's things, and gallops away down the stairs.

Zayn is next, and because it's his mum and he's still not quite awake, they exchange goodbyes and ' _I love you'_ s and he somehow ends up dozing off in Liam's lap, clinging to him, face buried in Liam's shoulder.

"Keeping you here by force," Louis jokes, and Liam laughs, trying not to be too loud.

"Zayn, we've got to go!" his mum calls.

No amount of hustling and poking will wake him. Liam eventually stands up, still holding him, and carries him down to the kitchen.

"Hi, Trisha," says Louis lightly, "you know what Zayn's like, decided to take a kip and now we can't wake him for the life of us!"

She blinks, and then breaks into a smile. "Well, thank you very much for giving us a hand. I swear sometimes I think he's narcoleptic or somethin'."

Her voice has the same lilt as Zayn's and it makes Louis smile every time. "You know, I've had that exact thought," he tells her, as they all head out to their car.

Once they've successfully loaded Zayn into the car, Liam tells his mum, "It's fine if you go, I'll wait here for Louis's mum."

"Alright, love. Bye, Louis," she says, and he kisses her cheek and wishes her a good trip.

The two of them stand on the footpath. The sun is right beating down; today is a proper summer day.

"I promised I wouldn't cry during goodbyes." Liam sticks his hands in his pockets "So, if I start crying, tell me off proper."

"Like that won't make you cry more, you big baby," Louis snorts, but there's no bite in it. Liam laughs.

"Well, Tommo, don't get yourself into any trouble while I'm gone," he warns, going in for a hug. He goes under and Louis goes over, even if it means Louis has to stand on his tip toes.

"Trouble?" Louis murmurs. "Me? Never."

Liam giggles and puts his cheek on Louis's shoulder, repeats, "Never."

"Not without you."

Liam doesn't reply to that, but Louis doesn't need him to.

The honk of the car horn is what makes Louis pull back. He's not sure how long they were standing there, but he's still sad to end it. "Love you," says Liam, and Louis says it back, and then hop-skip-jumps down over the gutter to get into the car. He watches Liam wave until they turn the corner and he falls out of sight.

"Everything okay?" Louis's mum asks.

"Yeah. Liam's out of town for a bit, visiting family." Louis tries to keep the sadness out of his voice.

"That should be lovely. I hope he has a nice time."

She's still watching him closely, he knows. He puts his head against the window and closes his eyes.

 

Harry calls that night while Louis is playing some comically frustrating app game on his phone. He's quiet for a lot, and when Louis finally asks how he's doing, he takes a moment to answer.

"Okay. I'm okay." He speaks even more slowly than usual. "Just wanted some company."

Louis understands, so he launches into a primarily one-sided conversation about Harry Potter. He doesn't mention that he's wearing Liam's shirt.

 

Harry catches the bus into town the next day. Louis is getting accustomed to the shaky feeling of separation, worse than the dream ache once you know what it feels like to have it gone, but Harry is still new to this.

The knock on the door comes at about ten that morning. Louis is still in his pajamas, and he hasn't showered, but he opens it anyway to a Harry who throws his arms around Louis and hides his face. His hair is even more unruly than usual, and as far as Louis can tell, he hasn't showered either.

"Sorry," says Harry. "I'm a bit. Like."

"It's okay," Louis tells him, reaches up to pet his hair the way he likes it, "we all are."

"You boys," tuts Louis's mum. "Acting like somebody's died."

Harry blushes – Louis doesn't let him pull back, though. "Let's go upstairs, yeah?"

"Alright," Harry murmurs, so up they go. It's as they're walking that Louis realises the t-shirt Harry is wearing is one of Liam's, same as his own.

It's going to be a long ten days.

 

Liam texts him photos of the drive up, the meat they have for dinner that night, selfies of him with his uncle (who probably didn't realise he was being selfied). It's quite late by the time he calls.

"Hey," Louis answers, barely giving the first ring time to finish.

"Oh, hi." Liam sounds tired, but fairly relaxed. "Were you waiting up for me?"

"Don't flatter yourself," Louis chides, because of course he was. "How's the family?"

"Good, good. We're going out tomorrow, apparently, but I don't know where."

"Keep me updated," Louis says, and damn it, his heart hurts. It's not fair.

Liam shuffles around for a moment. "Will do. It's so pretty up here, mate, in winter it's cold as anything but around now, the temperature is really, really nice."

"Glad you're enjoying it." It's meant to be snarky, sarcastic, but it comes out gentle. Louis can't believe what these boys have reduced him to. He's like a pile of sappy goop. With no wit. It sucks and it's humiliating.

He's really happy for Liam.

"Wish I could bring you up here with me," says Liam.

"If I was there," Louis murmurs, "I'd give you a hickey."

Liam giggles. Louis can see him in his mind's eye, shoulders bumping upwards for a moment as his eyes scrunch. "I'd love to see you try to explain that to my uncle."

"I could always give him a demonstration, instead," Louis offers. Knowing that Liam is smiling makes him feel better.

 

Boy, do they need Liam, Louis realises through the week. Zayn gets remote, doesn't want to to hug like normal, and he won't tell them what's going on in his head. When Harry makes a joke, there's no laugh to fill Zayn and Louis's sceptical silences. Louis misses having someone who'll smile at him when he kicks them. And he misses strong, warm, safe hugs – Harry's are great, but they're different, because he always feels a bit like he has to protect Harry.

They need Liam home. It's a long ten days.

 

The first few days aren't so bad; there's lots of time to catch up with his grandparents and also to wander the town. It's smaller than where he and the boys live, the type of town where half the population is very old and everyone knows everyone else. His second day there, they go to see a play at the community theatre and afterwards a boy around Liam's age slips Liam his number and winks at him.

Liam keeps it but doesn't call him.

Unfamiliarity isn't as nice as it would be if the others were there. He keeps wishing he could point things out to Louis or make jokes at Harry or ask Zayn if he could explain why that building looks the way it does. Mostly exploring makes him miss them.

 

By the fourth day, he's pretty wiped. He's been in polite mode for as long as they've been there and it's difficult to keep up; it's hard not to whinge at Ruth (because his grandmother will tell him off) and it's hard not to seem like he's stressed as hell (because his grandparents will worry and one of them will have a seizure, he guesses).

The boys call him every day. Harry usually rings mid-afternoon, when Liam's grandparents are napping and his parents are sat watching telly. Zayn is sometime after dinner, far enough past it that conversation has died down and Liam doesn't feel bad about leaving the table. Louis waits for Liam to call, right as he's getting into bed. They'll talk til Liam's eyelids start to droop, the rushing feeling in his veins eased enough for him to sleep.

Still, everything has been tiring. His grandparents keep asking how school's been (he's only scraping passing grades), what he wants to do when he's graduated (he doesn't _know_ ), if he has a girlfriend. His parents do their best, but they don't always know how to help him. He puts on one of Harry's plaids.

 

On the fifth day, Liam takes out Louis's nail polish.

(When Louis had given it to him as part of his contribution to the list of things for Codename: A Mess, Liam was decently confused. "When my sisters are sad," Louis explained, "we paint our nails together. It takes your mind off stuff for a little while." He added, cocky in a way that made Liam sure he was embarrassed, "I like to draw little smiley faces on their toes, so when they look down, they remember to be happy.")

They're having a relaxed day that day, staying in, and he's thinking too much, and it's not like anyone's going to see if he's wearing socks. Nobody looks at his toes. He chooses the gloss instead of a colour anyway, because it doesn't look like it'll stain anything. It's just glitter.

It only takes him a small while to figure out that he's really bad at this, and that it's very difficult. He's finding lots of new respect for girls who wear it all the time. The brush splays in a very pretty, very unpredictable way, and it takes all his attention to keep it from covering his whole toe.

He blames his intense focus for how Ruth sneaks up on him.

"Hey, what're you doing?"

Liam jumps, nearly smears polish everywhere. "Oh! Oh. Uhm. Hi, it's cool. This is, uh."

She sits beside him, and there's silence while he fumbles for something to say, heart beating faster than it would if he didn't miss the boys so dearly. At a loss for anything better, he settles on, "Sorry."

"No, don't be!" She shrugs. "Heaps of guys do stuff like this, they're just too embarrassed to say so." She pauses. "Where'd you get it, though? Cause if you took it from me, I'm going to use it for blackmail for years and years."

Laughing nervously, Liam shakes his head. "It's not yours."

"You bought it?" she guesses.

Liam swallows hard. "Nah."

"Go on, then." She leans over, bumps their shoulders together. "Secret girlfriend?"

"Uhm. Louis gave it to me, actually." He doesn't meet her gaze. Her expression could be anything – confusion, smugness, surprise – but he doesn't want to see it whatever the case.

"Oh."

Liam shrugs.

"Well." She clears her throat. "Is that his flannel, too?"

For a moment, Liam panics, only realises it was a joke when she laughs. "Don't worry, Li, I won't tell." Her eyes soften. "You can talk to me, right? About whatever. The polish thing is fine, your friends are fine. If you start dating anyone, that's fine."

He looks down at his toes again. "Thanks."

"I mean it, kid. Here for you." She gets to her feet, ruffling his hair. "I'll leave you to it, then?"

"Wait, Ruth," he says and grabs her wrist with his free hand. "Are you in a hurry anywhere?"

She shakes her head. "Not likely. What's up?"

Liam has to gather all of his courage, taking a few deep breaths. "I haven't quite got the hang of this yet." He gestures to his feet. "Could you help me? I mean, show me how to do it better."

 

Later that night when he phones Louis, he tells him, "Your nail painting thing really works."

Smugly, Louis says, "All my things really work. You should send me photos."

 

By day seven, Liam is so ready to see them again, and he misses home. He misses the park and knowing the bus schedule and the coffee shop. Not quite the bunny rabbit curtains.

He loves his grandparents, but he feels too far away, and he's started getting hot flushes and trembles when he feels the distance, like his blood is straining to breach the gap between him and the other boys. He listens to Harry's mix CD a lot of times, reads Zayn's Thor comic whenever the noise starts to constrict him. He wonders how many times they've done the same things with these same things, wonders if this is how they cope.

 

It's a long ten days. When he kisses cheeks goodbye, he feels terrible for feeling so relieved.

"You weren't very social while we were here," Liam's dad notices, while they load up the car. Liam expects to be told off, but instead his dad asks, "everything okay?"

"Yeah. Fine." Liam nods, brushes his hands off. "Might be getting a cold."

"Look after yourself," his dad grunts, and Liam's sort of weirded out but mostly happy.

"Thanks, Dad. I'll try."

 

Louis texts him the whole way home.

_From: Lewis  
To: Liam_

_where are you now?_

_From: Lewis_

_To: Liam_

_and now?_

_From: Lewis_

_To: Liam_

_i just need a vague estimate of how much longer until you're back_

Eventually he gives in.

_From: Liam_

_To: Lewis_

_whyyyyy??? :P_

_From: Lewis  
To: Liam_

_because itll be better knowing youre at least in the town okay. Looking forward to seeing you payno_

 

It's late when they get home, and flicking on the lights makes everything feel like they've conjured it up in the dark. Home is the _best_. Liam wants to hug every surface, every piece of familiar furniture, if only because it means the boys are within reach again. Sleep comes quick and easy once he's in bed, with the thought of the boys hanging over him like the friendliest storm cloud in history.

 

The next morning is less pleasant; for a start, he's sort of crying when he jolts from the dream, face screwed up and soft sobs involuntarily coming from his mouth even while his eyes stay dry. As soon as he's awake enough to shake that off, the intensity of the feeling sets in, and all he knows is he has to see them, he absolutely must, right away.

He's out the door and phoning Louis before six.

Louis is understandably puzzled by this. "Liammm," he whines, voice all sleepy and hoarse with morning, "it's like _oblivion o'clock_."

"I know," Liam says shakily, "but I just got back, and – "

Louis sighs. "Okay. Getting up. Only because I love you more than anything, though, you understand?"

Even in his desperation, that warms Liam. "I got you."

"Go to the park, then. See you soon, bro." He hangs up, and Liam moves on to call Harry.

He answers immediately. "Hi, you okay?"

Taken aback, Liam says, "Yeah, fine."

"Oh. Good." Harry yawns.

Guilty, Liam asks, "Did I wake you?"

"Nah," answers Harry. "Been up about half an hour already, ever since the dream. What's up, though?"

"Needed to be out of the house," Liam explains. "I miss you all." It's worse than that, it's worse than it normally is, maybe worse than it ever has been. He aches so much he could cry again, really cry.

"Babe," says Harry gently. His tone tells Liam that everything Liam's not saying, Harry's hearing anyway.

"Yeah, yeah." Liam shakes himself. "So, like, I'll be in the park? If you want to..."

"Gimme fifteen minutes," Harry murmurs. "Never too early for one of you." Then he, too, hangs up.

Liam gives up trying Zayn after a couple of rings. Zayn probably wouldn't get out of bed at this hour to escape a nuclear bomb, let alone to come hang out at the park.

 

The park is a different place this early in the morning. Despite the heavy traffic at this time, the air is clearer, somehow.

It's a while before anyone turns up; Louis texts, ' _at zayns, snuck in with secret patio key, trying to wake him without waking his fam. Be there asap.'_ Liam understands that such a dangerous and noble undertaking might keep them for awhile. Harry has to bus from his house; Liam gives him at least forty minutes.

Having some time is nice, though. It's not hot yet, and no one else is around, so he doesn't feel like he's robbing any children by sitting on the swings. The cars race on past, and though the increased noise makes him nervous, the visual is soothing. He can feel his pulse in his throat, and he repeats _they're on their way_ to himself like a mantra.

 

Harry rounds the corner, wild hair leading, and he smiles at Liam even though he looks wrecked. "Hey, man," he yawns, and gives Liam a good old-fashioned bear hug. Liam hugs back the best he can, considering he's still sitting on the swing. He feels his body hit the earth again, feels like a real person instead of just an emotion.

"Sorry for waking you up so early." Liam is muffled with his face in Harry's midriff.

"It's cool," says Harry, "reckon we were all kind of shaken. Last night was a bad one, and you've been away. It's cool." Liam nods along.

 

They stay for several more minutes before Zayn's voice growls, "If someone dies here this morning, it isn't my fault." Liam feels the constriction in his chest drain away, physically lets his shoulders slump.

"We know it's early, princess," coos Louis. "You'll live. Isn't it nice to see Liam and Harry?"

Everything's alright. Liam turns around, mostly so he can see if Zayn attacks Louis. Instead, Zayn says, "I'm going back to sleep."

With that, he lies down on the spot, curls up in the grass, and... really does go straight back to sleep.

" _Zaynnn,"_ whinges Louis, lying down and snuggling up to him. "Come on, bro."

Zayn's response is nothing. Liam is amazed. He's actually asleep.

"Well," says Harry, with a shrug, "if you can't beat them." He pulls Liam over by the hand, and flops down near Louis, long body curved like the closing parantheses.

Louis looks up at Liam. He has early morning shadow around his jaw and his eyes. He hasn't shaved and if Liam's not mistaken, he's still wearing his pajamas. He smiles, and Liam feels such intense affection it's painful.

"Hey," says Louis, shuffling over. "There's room."

Carefully, Liam lies down between Louis and Zayn. He tries not to knock or bump, but Louis doesn't seem to worry as he swings a leg around Liam.

"Hush now," he whispers, nose inches from Liam's own. "Naptime."

When he surfaced from the dream a few hours prior, Liam couldn't imagine being able to go back to sleep. He was anxious and lonely and so _awake,_ the idea of even staying in bed was laughable.

Now, though, tangled up with the others in a way he hasn't been in too long, chest finally able to expand, muscles relaxing, his eyes won't stay open. He dozes off with Louis's warm breath puffing against his cheek, Harry's snoring over his shoulder, and Zayn's heartbeat under his hand.

 

 

Niall doesn't know what makes this morning different to other mornings. He woke up early and wasn't able to fall asleep again, and he hasn't been feeling himself in a long while, but today is worse than ever. His fingers jitter and his knees feel weak – or, weaker than they always do.

He's so _tired,_ is the thing. Midway through taking out the rubbish, it hits him so hard he can barely make conversation with the dump truck driver like usual.

"I'm goin' for a nap," he says as he comes inside, resting his hand on the wall. His legs feel like lead.

His father is washing up in the kitchen; concern appears in his brow as he looks over. "You okay, lad?"

"Fine," Niall answers. "Well, not great, but not to worry."

His dad dries his hands and walks over, lays a toughened hand on Niall's forehead. Normally, there's not a problem in Niall's life that his father can't solve, but this illness doesn't seem deterred. "Not the flu, you think?"

"Reckon it's a head cold at worst," Niall assures him, trying to sound confident. All he wants to do is sleep.

"Alright." His dad doesn't look convinced, but he still steps back. "Go sleep, then we'll see how you're doing."

"I'll let you know. Love you," Niall says. He waits to hear it back before he goes to his room.

He barely makes it to his bed before a black wave of sleep pulls him under.

 

Safe and warm and so _there_ , the four of them stand in front of him. He wants to hug them or cry or do something, but he can't get his legs to move right. In the back of his mind he knows this is a dream, somewhere his subconscious understands this, but he still can't quite move, can't quite draw breath to speak.

The golden one is staring, first at his own hands, then at Niall, then at the rough gentle one who stands beside him. "What's happened?"

"Lucid dreaming," says the rough gentle one. "We know we're dreaming."

"Wait," says the sharp one, "We're like, awake, in the dream?"

"Not exactly," says the rough gentle one, and Niall misses what he says next, because there's suddenly the sleepy one, arms tight around Niall, face alight with excitement.

"Hi! We can talk to you! Oh my god!"

"Oh my god," whispers the sharp one, " _Oh my god._ "

The golden one runs to Niall, and between him and the sleepy one, Niall fears for his ribs. "Hi," pants the golden one, "oh, god, are you okay?"

Niall hugs him back out of pure instinct, the feeling of safety giving him strength to talk. "I think so, I mean, I – "

" _HE'S IRISH_ ," yells the sharp one, and it takes Niall a moment to see that he's happy – he's delighted.

"You're Irish," says the golden one, a little teary-eyed. "That's amazing. Do you still live in Ireland?"

"Where in Ireland?" says the sleepy one.

"Do you have sisters?" demands the sharp one.

"Lads," grunts the rough gentle one, "give him a moment."

"I... yes, I live in Ireland," Niall manages. The sleepy one cheers. "Do you all know each other?"

"Yes," says the sharp one. "You're our wildcard. We have to find you."

Those are words Niall has heard him say before, but they're different now; he feels all choked and exhilerated. "Are you angels?"

A sudden softness passes over the sharp one's face, and for a moment Niall sees someone loving and vulnerable, someone who knows him, which is weird but _right_ at the same time.

"We're boys like you," says the sleepy one.

"And you've been doing this by yourself for a long, long time," adds the golden one, "and once we find you everything'll be easier."

"We haven't got a lot of time," the rough gentle one says. "Someone's consciousness kicks in and we're all out like a light."

"It's gonna be okay," the golden one tells Niall, taking both of Niall's hands in his own. "I promise."

Niall grips his fingers, tries to stop trembling. "You promise," he mumbles, laughing.

They gather around him and Niall holds them all as tight as he can, twisting his hands in their shirts and burying himself against them. How long they stand there, Niall isn't sure – all he knows is he needs the strength and touching them is like being recharged.

"Wait, wait," the sharp one gasps, "don't – "

He leaves a gap in their midst; at once he's gone, like he was never there at all. Soon after, the sleepy one goes, apologising the whole way, and then the golden one, ("It will be okay, we'll find you, we _will,"_ ) and the rough gentle one hugs him close, lasts only a little longer than they did.

Niall's eyes shoot open. His fists are clenched in his sheets, and there's a bowl of soup on the bedside table. Already, he feels worn through.

 


	8. Chapter 8

Harry wakes to discover that he doesn't know where his body is. For a few seconds, his mind and his head is entirely displaced from the rest of him, and when he finally finds it again, realises it never left, he can barely breathe. He sits up with a start and tries to shake himself.

Louis turns around, a fast movement. Harry tries to speak, but he feels all clenched, sound not working like it normally does. Immediately soothing, Louis dashes over. "You're okay, love, hold my hand. Okay? Yeah, that's it."

Normally, Harry would be offended that Louis is speaking to him with the voice he uses with his little sisters, but he's too shaken to care. He does as he's told, takes Louis's fingers.

"That's right," says Louis, free hand smoothing Harry's hair. "You're panicking, that's all, you're okay. Nothing bad's happened."

Harry simply nods, focusing on breathing. His chest feels hollow and weak, lungs taken away.

"Louis?" says a groggy voice. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's just fine, Payno." Louis keeps his gaze on Harry, whose heart is going too fast, way too fast, and it's pulsing so hard it hurts. "You watch Zayn for me. You're okay," he adds to Harry, "you're okay, sunshine."

It takes a little while before Harry calms. He feels exposed and guilty, but also relieved. "Sorry," he breathes, and Louis kisses his temple, tone brisk and more like usual.

"Not a problem, happens to the best of us. Liam, you good, bro?"

"Yeah, reckon I'm okay," Liam answers, brushing off his trouser legs. "And Mr Malik is back with us as well."

"That was lucid dreaming," says Zayn right away. "We must have brought it on somehow."

"When we woke up, me and Harry both," Louis says, "I mean, I'm assuming Harry too, I felt like I'd lost my body."

Zayn nods, sucks his teeth. "Sleep paralysis is an occasional side effect. I've read about this before."

"It might have been that we're all here?" Harry clears his throat. "I mean, since we were here, together, while we slept. That might have brought the lucid dreaming on."

"I think that's it," Liam agrees. "I think it gets stronger – to be fair, we get stronger – when we're all here."

They all look at each other. Louis is fiery-eyed, eyebrows drawn in; Liam is pensive, like he's sorting logistics for something already; and Zayn looks dubious, but he looks that way most of the time, so Harry's not sure how much to read into it.

"Okay," says Liam slowly. "What do we do now?"

"We need to reach that boy," Louis answers, and he's definitely got his Honey Badger voice on. "We have to go get him."

"We don't have an address or a name," Zayn points out. "We've got some vague scenery and an accent. Not a lot to go off."

"We need to see him again," decides Louis. "Who's free tonight?"

Harry puts his hand up and after a moment so does Zayn. Liam hesitates.

"What's up?" Zayn murmurs, as if Louis and Harry aren't right there.

"Nothing," Liam answers and puts his hand up, "I'll have to call my mum first, to check it's okay."

"Which house? Harry's?" Louis leans forward into the circle, conspiratorially.

"If it's my house," Harry says awkwardly, trying to word it in the least uncomfortable way, "we're going to have to do a bit of shuffling around."

Louis squints. "What does – "

"After last time," Harry tries to explain, already fighting an embarrassed grin. "She – my mum gave me a bit of a talk? About like. What's appropriate. And things. I mean, we might have to stage it, is all. So it looks accidental, that we all sleep together, but it's not."

Louis gives a sweeping look around the group. "Harry's knowledge of the enemy –" ("That's my mum, Louis, watch it,") " – Zayn's creativity, Liam's incredible eye for detail, and my Oscar-worthy acting? We've got this in the bag."

 

It's hard to talk normally to his mum when all the other boys are gathered around and staring at him, but Harry does his best.

"As long as they clear it with their parents," she relents. Harry sees Louis fist pumping and throwing a silent party and tries so very hard not to laugh. "See you when you get home. Love you."

"Love you too," says Harry and hangs up. "That felt so like lying."

"It wasn't lying!" Louis says, slapping him on the back. "Just encouragement."

They split up to phone their own parents, and Harry plonks himself on a swing to wait. Louis is first back. He sits on the swingseat next to Harry's and grins. "All settled, only I have to be back to watch the girls after lunch."

Zayn has a similar story. "Going to a dance recital at one," he murmurs, perching on Louis's lap. "Try not to let me sleep through it."

"We're only mortals, Zayn," Louis sighs, and Harry laughs despite himself.

Liam is quite quiet when he hangs up and comes back over. "Everything good?" Zayn checks.

Liam nods, "Yeah. My mum misses having me around, I s'pose. But she said yes." He doesn't offer any more than that. Harry wishes he knew what to say.

"I vote we go for coffee," Louis announces. "We all need a pick-me-up, I think, especially our darling Liam."

"I'm fine," mumbles Liam, but he's smiling, which is the sign that resistance to Louis is gone. Harry knows that smile well, because he's very often the one wearing it.

"Up," Louis commands, and rolling his eyes, Zayn gets off him.

"You're a bossy, sucky husband," he tells Louis.

"Fiance," corrects Louis warmly. "A bossy, sucky fiance." He kisses Zayn's cheek before he turns to face them all. "Forward march, yeah?"

 

It turns out a mug of tea and a fresh, warm muffin is exactly what Harry needed this time in the morning. He and Liam split his food, at his own insistence. Liam had said no to anything to eat, even though he hadn't had breakfast before he left home, so Harry used his detective skills and drew the conclusion that Liam must not have any spare change. Sharing his food is the least he can do.

The staff here are always happy to see them, which amazes Harry to no end, since they're quite unabashedly terrible people to have in any public space at all, much less one with a lot of fragile crockery and elderly patrons. Their usual waiter for Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Sundays, Richy, is there today, and he and the counter girl are talking and smiling and they keep looking in their direction. Harry gets a warm feeling in his belly to know that they're not angry. He's glad they appreciate the boys, because he feels everyone should.

They sit in silence for the most part, soaking up the warmth and comfort of the food and their mutual presences, until Liam says, disbelieving, "Irish. For God's sake."

There's a chorus of _I KNOW_ s and various similar responses.

"He's so small," adds Zayn softly. "Makes you wanna wrap him up, keep him safe."

"I'm small," Louis points out, after waiting and finishing his mouthful. "You've never threatened me with that."

Amused, Zayn smirks and says, "Funnily enough, I never felt that necessary for you."

It's either just Harry or it seems like Louis blushes.

 

Turning the doorknob, he calls, "Mum? You home?" And after a moment, he can determine she isn't. He assumed so, because her car is gone from the driveway, but he decided it was probably best to check before letting the boys run rampant. On the kitchen bench there's a note, reading, _'Just gone to fetch some things, love you xo'._ When Louis finds it, he insists on reading it out in his best dramatic voice.

Zayn is on a one-way track to the couch; when he reaches it, he gives a soft sigh of joy, and flops down, closing his eyes and sprawling out. Harry thinks he's gone to sleep _again_ , but he shifts to pull his earbuds out of his pocket and put them in his ears. They're all used to this routine by now, of Zayn taking a few minutes out wherever he can spare them. Harry smiles even though Zayn's not looking and calls, "Who wants tea?"

Louis's hand shoots up, but he doesn't respond other than that. He's speaking to Liam in a low voice. He has been ever since they arrived, actually, now that Harry thinks about it. He swallows hard against his initial jealousy, remembers that they love him and each other just as much, and goes to find that mug Louis really likes.

"Hi, sweetheart, you here?" calls his mum, opening the door, and honestly he's glad to see her.

"Hii," he says, and she smiles as she pokes her head into the kitchen.

"Brought some milk," she tells him, holding up the carton, "and I'm holding it ransom until I receive a cup of tea too."

"On it."

Even as he turns away, he can feel her watching him suspiciously and wills himself to sound as not-guilty as possible when she eventually asks, because he has nothing to be guilty for. At least, not yet.

"Are you feeling alright?" she murmurs, taking some laundry detergent out of her shopping bag and putting it in the cupboard by his leg.

"Fine, yeah, good." Harry fishes the teabags from her bag to replace the box he's about to empty. "Good to have Liam back."

"Right." There's something playing on her face, something that could turn stern or sentimental at any moment, a sort of twist to her mouth that he can't quite read. It's still strange to him that he looks down on her. Sometimes it's funny, but today it just makes him feel weird. "If you're sure."

"I'm sure." He's not sure at all, really, but he knows that if he holds his face the right way, she won't know that.

They stare at each other for a considerable time, both as stubborn as one another.

"Go take Louis his tea," she concedes. "I have a feeling he's concocting an evil scheme back there and dragging poor Liam into it."

Harry laughs and grabs their mugs. When he comes into the living room, he can barely blame her.

Louis is perched on the edge of the couch, hands clasped in his lap and feet dangling a few inches from the ground. Liam is on his hands and knees, rummaging through a box of their older blu-rays and DVDs.

"Marathon of _Friends_?" Liam suggests, pulling his head out of the box.

"No, too easy to stop in the middle of." Louis gives Harry a big smile and reaches out his hands for his mug. "Thank you, love. Hard to think without tea."

"What're we doing?" asks Harry.

Before Louis can answer, Liam surfaces again, boxset in hand, and Louis cries, " _Perfect!_ "

Liam looks very pleased with himself when Louis blows him a kiss. "Liam, you are a national treasure. In fact, international. Eighth wonder of the world, that's what you are."

Now he just looks embarrassed. "Okay, okay, let me set this up."

"What are we doing?" Harry repeats, louder. "I want to know the plan!" By Louis's smirk, he can tell his tone was bratty.

"We," Louis announces, "are marathoning the Lord of the Rings!"

"You're welcome!" Liam adds, now from inside the cabinet where they keep the blu-ray player.

"Right," says Harry slowly. "Any particular reason, or...?"

"Yeah, 's cause I've got the hots for Galadriel." Louis rolls his eyes and beckons Harry closer. "It's a diversion _and_ an excuse," he whispers. "Your mum goes to bed, we all fall asleep out here and say we didn't make it to the end of the movie, simple as that."

"That's actually really clever," says Harry to himself as well as to Louis.

"I know, right?" Louis stretches and sits back. "You can thank me in our dreams tonight."

 

Fellowship of the Ring takes up the better part of their afternoon (Liam has to take some shaky breaths when Boromir dies) and Two Towers goes on after tea.

"Are you really going to finish them all?" Harry's mum asks through a yawn as the credits roll.

"We hope so!" Louis replies, elbowing Liam to get him to get up and change the disk. "It's all about the journey, see, that's really what's at the heart of Tolkien's stuff. Right, Zayn?"

"Oh, yeah," says Zayn, and Harry can hear his inner future English Teacher. "Tolkien's fictional literary works are all built upon the concept that human life – and, indeed, if we are to follow his stories, hobbit life – is a journey, and that the job of a person is to do the most good and the least evil possible in their circumstances, and that extraordinary circumstances lend themselves towards more twisted journeys, but overall – "

"We get it, we get it," Louis mutters, and, unphased, Zayn shrugs and stops mid-sentence.

"Sorry," says Liam, with a very convincing (possibly real) apologetic smile. "What Louis and Zayn _mean_ is, is that okay?" Seeing her slight frown, he adds, "you certainly shouldn't have to stay up with us, either!"

A chorus of _no!_ and _of course not!_ comes from the other three.

"Honest," Liam says. "We'll finish the movie and all go right to sleep. I'll make sure."

She melts at his wide eyes, the way he bites his lip, and Harry's hardly surprised. If anything, he's impressed she's lasted this long against it.

"Alright, then," she sighs and quickly adds to Louis and Zayn who are high-fiving, "Only because Liam's supervising!"

"Heyyy," says Harry. "You don't trust me to supervise?"

She kisses his forehead and says, "G'night, pet," instead of answering properly.

She's gone. Louis jumps off the couch. "Okay," he says, gathering them in so he can whisper, arms around them like a huddle. "Liam, that was great."

Liam goes pink and mumbles, "It's not acting if it's the truth, mate."

"What about me, Louis?" huffs Zayn. "I made that crap up on the spot! Yeah, like to hear you do that, any of you."

Louis waves it off. "Yes, yes, good work Zayn, but anyway." He's not fooling anyone because he and Zayn are holding hands and Louis is rubbing Zayn's mood ring. "I say we give it ten minutes. Then we look at the actual logistics."

"We could pull the cushions off the couches and lay them on the floor?" Harry suggests.

"No, that would look planned. We have to keep the room as it is." Louis pulls back and says slightly louder, "any rate, we'll figure it out. Let's get this movie started, then."

Harry tries to pay attention to the movie, but his focus keeps drifting to the footsteps from upstairs. After ten minutes of no movement from above, Louis signals them. Liam lowers the volume of the movie a few clicks.

"Asset check," Louis orders, biting his thumbnail.

"Two couches," says Harry. "Three relatively small blankets. A few throw pillows."

"A coffee table," adds Zayn.

Louis's eyes narrow. "Harry," he says, "do you think anyone would notice if we moved that table closer to the couches?"

Trying to understand where that idea is headed, Harry glances at the space between the lounge and the table; it's a foot, he guesses, maybe a little more. "No," he answers confused. "I don't think so. It will look weird if one of us is asleep on it, though."

"No, we won't need that," Louis says, and he has that gleam in his eyes. "As long as we're touching, it should work, right?"

They all nod.

"Okay. Liam, move the table."

Liam does as he's told. Harry thanks God for the decision to have carpet in this room, keeping it quiet.

"Zayn, sit here." Louis points to the end of the first couch, the corner closer to the other one. "Put your legs on the table."

Zayn, too, obeys, settles with his hands clasped over his tummy. "Not bad. I could sleep like this."

"You could sleep in a contortionist's pose," scoffs Louis.

"Ooh, that's a big word, hey," Zayn jeers. "Where'd you learn that, dictionary-dot-com's word of the day?"

Louis ignores him and sits down on the near end of the second couch. He puts his legs up, too, and his bare feet tangle with Zayn's socked ones. "See?"

"Ingenious," says Harry.

Louis does that smug thing with his eyebrows. "Care to join me, young Harold?"

"My pleasure," says Harry, because he never turns down a cuddle.

Zayn smiles at Liam who smiles back and sits down next to him, taking his hand.

They turn the movie back up after that, but Harry doesn't make it to the end. He's so drowsy during the spider scenes that he keeps getting confused, and by the time Faramir is being burned, he's fast asleep, head in Louis's lap, feet propped up on the armrest.

 

Sunlight streams in through the gap in the cutains at the exact angle to burn Harry's left ear. He tries to keep sleeping through it, but he simply can't, and after a minute or two of internal struggle, he sits up to avoid it. He's alone on the couch. Zayn's still asleep on the other one.

The dream didn't happen.

The realisation hits him right in the gut. There was no dream, none at all. Ever since he had the very first one all those months ago, it had never just not happened.

He stands. His legs feel tired, slightly achy from being up all night, but he has to find the others.

Liam and Louis are in the kitchen. Louis has his steaming mug of tea in his hands, and he sits pretzel-legged on the bench, head down so he doesn't hit it on the cupboards. Liam leans back against the centerpiece stove, facing away from Harry. His shoulders are tight and tense.

They're speaking in low, definitely worried voices, and Louis breaks off when he sees Harry.

"What's going on?" Harry asks, more pitifully than he intended. Louis beckons him over and gives him a hug.

"We're not sure," Liam says in response to his question, hand settling on Harry's shoulder. "The dream might not be coming back, but we're working on solutions."

"Yes," says Louis confidently. "I have a genius plan in the making right at this very minute."

"What've you got?" Harry asks, dutifully, because he knows Louis is waiting for him to do so.

"So far?" Louis grins. "Three tubes of toothpaste, a very profane letter to my science teacher from year nine, three hundred pounds of sugar, and a crane."

Harry laughs, nuzzles his head into Louis's shoulder. "Crane as in the bird?"

"No, as in with a wrecking ball on the end." Louis sips his tea. "Overall, it's coming along quite nicely."

Harry is fully aware that Louis is only doing this to cheer him up – that in reality, it has them all stumped – and that he's being told it's all okay like he's a worried toddler, but honestly, he's happy to play kid for awhile.

"Want breakfast?" he asks, pulling back to dig the bread out of the pantry.

"Yes, please!" Louis replies. "Do you have marmalade?"

"What kind of question is that?" Harry snorts. "Of course we do."

Zayn gets up a few minutes later and walks into the kitchen in time to see Harry and Liam, at Louis's prompting, attempt to re-enact the spaghetti scene from Lady and the Tramp using marmite toast.

"What a way to wake up," he says, tone somewhat awed, somewhat horrified.

Harry giggles and Louis licks marmalade off his fingertips like nothing out of the ordinary happened. Liam's mouth is too full of toast to say anything.

They sit and talk to Zayn about the dream's bizzare disappearance over breakfast. Liam munches his second piece of toast (jam this time) and frowns a lot, Louis is on his third cup of tea already, and Zayn looks ready to go back to bed when the crane plan is mentioned again.

Harry's mum comes downstairs, and Harry grins at Louis. They hadn't needed to explain anything after all.

"Morning, boys."

They chorus good morning back, and Louis sighs as he checks the clock. "I'd best be off soon. I want to be home in time to help Mum with lunch before she leaves."

"I'll catch the same bus," says Zayn, leaning over and brushing some crumbs off the side of Liam's mouth (causing Liam to smile so big that Harry smiles back instinctively). "I need to get cleaned up for this recital."

"Say," Liam murmurs, "you don't reckon it's gone?"

Harry blinks. "What?"

"The, like." Liam gestures between them. "The nervous thing."

Harry's heart skips a beat. "Hadn't occurred to me," he says, and judging by the looks on their faces, it hadn't occurred to Zayn or Louis either.

"We should trial it," Louis decides, voice all rushed. "We'll all get dressed and go and we'll check in tonight."

Liam finishes his toast and dashes to change. There are cheek kisses and hugs and Liam must thank Harry's mum at least seventeen times before they're off to the bus stop.

 

It only takes a couple of hours for Harry to be sure it hasn't gone. Very miserably, he pulls on one of Liam's t-shirts and mopes for awhile in his room.

The only text he gets is from Zayn.

_From: Eyelashes_

_To: Curls_

_it's still there :( hope you're okay x_

 

After dinner, Louis calls, and from the way he natters on non-stop about his sisters and how crazy they drove him all afternoon, Harry can tell he's kind of nervous. He imagines they all are.

They say their ' _I love you_ 's, their goodnights, and when Harry hangs up, he does so with a shaking hand.

 

The dream doesn't come back. Harry's pretty sure it's not going to.

 

 

 

Zayn hasn't heard from Louis since the dream disappeared a few days ago, and he's decently concerned. He's texted a few times, phoned once, and gotten... nothing. He doesn't want to play stalker, but he's pretty sure that these circumstances give him grounds for investigation.

Girls' laughter is audible even from outside the house, and it makes Zayn more and less nervous all at once. He's sure he smells of cigarette smoke, he's in his older, scruffier sneakers, and the plaid shirt of Liam's that he's wearing is... well, pretty obviously Liam's. He's not talked a lot to Louis's mum without moral support.

Overall, when he rings the doorbell, his hands are kind of sweating.

Shouts of "I'LL ANSWER IT!" and "NO! ME!" sound inside, and he wipes his palms on his jeans, puffs his cheeks up.

One of Louis's little sisters peaks out from behind the doorframe. "Zayn! I didn't know you were coming over!"

"Surprise," Zayn says, smiling and leaning on his knees. "Can I come in?"

"Hang on," she says and turns to yell into the house. "MUM, CAN ZAYN COME IN?"

"Yes," she calls back, and Louis's sister beams and pulls the door open.

By the time Zayn reaches the kitchen, he's sort of swamped with small children. He gives Jay a smile and a shrug and says, "Hi, apparently I've been captured."

"Oh, girls," she sighs, "leave him be. Go finish that movie."

They sullenly agree, dismounting him and releasing his hair and retreating to the living room.

"Zayn," she greets him, and it's a lot quieter with the kids' noise gone. "You're always welcome here, of course, but I didn't know you were coming. Louis normally tells me these things."

"Oh," says Zayn, trying so hard not to sound shifty. "I hope I'm not intruding. I just thought I'd drop by and see him."

"I'm sure he'll be delighted." She tilts her head. "Is he... he's okay, right? Nothing's wrong that I should know about?"

Zayn swallows. Her eyes are tired. "Not that I'm aware of," he says at last.

"Alright then." She gets to her feet. "He's upstairs in his room. Let me know when you're leaving."

"Thank you," he mumbles and turns to the stairs.

He doesn't bother knocking, hasn't done for a long time, and so the sight he's met with is kind of a shock.

There's paper _everywhere_ , all over Louis's bed. Some of it is crumpled into balls, but most of it is covered in Louis's scrawly handwriting; there's a lot of numbers. Three empty mugs sit on the windowsill.

In the middle of it all sits Louis himself. He's wearing Liam's Batman t-shirt and a pair of boxers, holds a fourth cup of tea in his right hand and a calculator in his left, and he's speaking to himself, quiet and quick, "If that comes to 200 pounds, we have to compensate for luggage, we might go over, so we'll have to – "

"Louis," Zayn interrupts. "What are you doing, man?"

"I'm planning," says Louis, more loudly than he usually speaks. "I tried to get Harry to go alone, but he won't."

Zayn's confused. "Go where, sorry?"

"Ireland," Louis replies. "By train. Harry won't go by himself, tried to make him, says we have to go together, got to find the money and do the scheduling for four now, and."

"Couldn't we – sorry, couldn't we bring him here instead?" Zayn asks. He's doing his best to stay calm in the face of Louis's mania, even though he's having trouble following along.

"No way to contact him," Louis mumbles, rubbing his eyes.

"Surely there's an alternative," Zayn tries, and Louis shakes his head.

"I haven't slept in thirty hours, there are _no_ alternatives, I've tried everything. We're working with an accent and the vaguest image of a town square."

Zayn stares at him for a long moment. "Are you joking?" he says at last.

Louis gives a little laugh-sob. "No."

Crouching down in front of him, Zayn carefully extracts the mug from Louis's hands. "Babe," he murmurs. "You're brave and clever and dedicated. I love you."

"You too," Louis sighs.

"And you really, really need to sleep." Zayn hushes him before he can argue. "Really."

Louis's shoulders slump. "Okay," he says. "Okay."

He lets Zayn tuck him into bed and press a kiss to his forehead, then he's out like a light, pure exhaustion winning over. Zayn sets about trying to clear up some of the mess, and he ends up reading a lot of Louis's sheets of paper.

However tired he might be, Louis has all their bases covered. Zayn can't think of a single thing that's not written down somewhere here, and there's a lot that wouldn't have occurred to him. Some of the distraction techniques to use on the families are ridiculous; ' _unleash fake dragon on town for lots of attention-stealing media?_ ' is his personal favourite.

After reading it all (or all that was legible), he gets his and Louis's phones and calls Liam on his, Harry on Louis's.

Harry picks up first, and he sounds exasperated. "My answer is still no," he huffs. "I'm sorry, I couldn't do it. It'd be wrong without you all."

As Zayn goes to reply, Liam picks up. "Hey, mate! Everything alright?"

"Hang on," Zayn says.

Liam says, "Sure thing."

"Zayn?" Harry asks. "That you?"

Zayn for lack of a better place, closes himself in the bathroom. "I'm putting you on speaker," he says to both of them.

"Okay," they reply in sync, just after he's put them on.

"Wow! Is Liam there too? How come I wasn't invited?" Harry says.

"What?" Liam sounds baffled. "Are you there?"

"Boys," Zayn interrupts. They fall silent, and he explains the situation as quickly and succinctly as he can. He's hyperaware of how much echo there is in here, of how bad it would be if Louis's mum found out what they were going to do.

"Wow," says Harry again.

"Good thing you checked on him," Liam says, almost to himself.

"Thing is, though," Zayn continues, flipping through the pages he has in hand, "the scheme he's got going here – it really does look like our best option."

Silence, from both ends.

"Are you sure?" Liam says at last.

"I'm sure," says Zayn, because he is.

"Well." Clearing his throat, Harry rustles on his end, like he's adjusting the phone or maybe lying down. "Tell it to us."

Zayn does his best to make it sound feasible as he reads them the bare bones of Louis's idea. With some minor changes. He has to steady himself once or twice, because it's so easy to become overwhelmed by the hugeness of the project.

"It'll never work," says Liam, mostly because someone has to.

"We'll make it work," Zayn answers and takes a few deep breaths.

 

The next week is hectic, to say the least. There are times to organise and things to pack and scripting what the hell they're going to say to their parents when they get back.

(If he's being totally honest, Zayn hasn't really thought that bit through yet. He's trying to avoid thinking about it at all.)

Louis takes up a lot of his attention, because he needs help remembering to do basic things like shower and eat and say hi to his sisters each day.

"I don't have time," Louis will snap, and Zayn will calmly say what he always says,

"We won't have time for anything if your mum figures us out."

The line is true enough to be effective without being threatening and normally changes Louis's mind.

 

They're all busy, of course – Zayn is in charge of reading over Louis's schedules and checklists, finding obvious logical fallacies that Louis missed because he was too focused on the details. Liam is packing for all of them; they've been alternating houses every few days so that none of their parents get suspicious.

While Louis scribbles another set of places to check, Zayn googles whether or not a particular sum Louis has written adds up. Liam switches between peering into the wardrobe ("Black Avenger's shirt, Zayn?" "Yeah, thanks." "Light blue polo?" "Nah.") and sitting cross-legged on the floor, folding with the type of practiced dexterity that Zayn could only dream of having.

Harry's in charge of distractions. He's sweet enough that all their parents like him, but not as horrible a liar as Liam is. He makes sure to pop down the stairs every now and again or to make noise when they're being too quiet or to put in a new movie when the last one has finished. He's also fronting cash for the operation from his own savings.

("Harry, no _way_ ," Louis had said initially, crossing his arms and frowning up at him. "Absolutely not."

"But I have the money," Harry had argued. The unsaid ' _and you don't_ ' had stung, but it had also made a very good point.

When they all three had failed to respond, Harry had sighed, run his hands through his hair. "I'm not going to be any help, really, with all this." He put up a hand. "No, Liam, don't fight with me. I'm not good at this clever stuff like Zayn and Louis and I'm not good at organizing like you are. Plus, I'm an absolute _nightmare_ to travel with. I fall asleep everywhere, I lose things, I-I get lost! I get sad at night. I swear, I'm gonna be a huge pain. Please let me do this much.")

Harry gets bored, sometimes, waiting around while they work, but Zayn's noticed they're all starting to do things about it. Instead of getting up, Liam will ask Harry to fetch him particular items to pack. At random tea intervals, Louis will lean over and make a silly joke about whatever movie is on right then. Zayn has to assume they're in-jokes because while almost none of them even start to make sense, they all leave Harry breathless with laughter.

This is one of the areas where Zayn isn't so good with Harry, but he tries his best. When his fingers get restless, he likes to tangle them in Harry's hair, and Harry seems to enjoy that, so Zayn goes with it. Somehow it becomes their thing.

 

They actually pay for the tickets, eventually. When the ' _purchase successful!_ ' box opens on the computer, they all breathe out together.

 

The day draws closer, and Zayn is starting to feel very guilty. Every time his father calls to him, his stomach gets tight because what if he's found out? And every time one of his sisters asks him if he has plans for the weekend, he gets so anxious he can't stay still.

Every time his mum says, "I love you," he struggles to say it back because he's breaking the trust that's always been so important to them.

 

"Louis," he whispers into the phone, the night before they leave. "I don't think I can do it."

"We've got to, bro," Louis says back. He's exhausted beyond belief; Zayn can tell. "We can't go on living under the weight of this for the rest of our lives."

"Yeah." Zayn puts his head back against the wall and rubs his forearm.

"I know the thing with your mum," Louis begins, and stops when Zayn's breath catches. "I know that's hard and scary. For anything else, we wouldn't do it. Right? You wouldn't, for anything else, would you?"

Zayn shakes his head and sniffles. "No."

"Of course you wouldn't. She'll still love you, and we'll find a way to explain it, once we've found him. It'll be way easier with him there, y'know, someone to back us up, right?"

Pulling his sleeve over his cheek to dry one or two stray tears, Zayn croaks, "I feel so awful."

"I know, my love." Louis's voice is wistful. "Rub your ring, I'll rub mine. We're definitely gonna find this boy, and it'll be worth it. Promise."

 

Midnight that night, Zayn sneaks outside and hides his suitcase in the alley between his house and the next. His knees shake.

 

The next day, he's kissing his mum goodbye and hugging his sisters and they're all so casual, he doesn't know how to take it. Getting out as fast as he can and grabbing his suitcase on his way to the bus stop, he's ready to vomit.

That's when his phone starts ringing. He jumps half a foot in the air, _panics_ , because how could they have found out so fast? But Caller ID says Liam.

Zayn's heart is still going a million miles a minute when he answers. "Yeah?"

"Zayn?" Liam immediately sounds concerned. "You good, mate?"

"Fine," Zayn bites. "Great. Smashing."

Liam's quiet.

"Sorry," Zayn mutters. "Sorry, I didn't. Like."

"It's gonna be fine," Liam says, with such conviction Zayn nearly believes him. "It's gonna be alright."

Zayn's chest is like ice. His thoughts and breaths are all short. "Where do I meet you?"

"Park." Liam has a way of being empathetic and matter-of-fact at the same time. "Is there anything I can get you?"

Zayn remembers last time Liam comforted him, remembers standing on a balcony with a cigarette in his hand when he still barely knew his boys.

He can't call his mum now. "A coffee would be great."

"On it," Liam replies, and Zayn hangs up.

 

When he turns the corner to the park, Zayn feels reassurance crash over his worn, anxiety-ridden body like a wave, a telepathic blanket pulled around him by the other three.

Liam greets him with a tight hug and a takeaway cup of his favourite coffee. Louis kisses him and drapes him in a plaid shirt, which could be Liam's or Harry's (they don't so much keep track of clothing ownership any more).

Speaking of Harry, he looks a lot more put-together than the rest of them, as always. His grin is easy, his hug warm, and if Zayn didn't know him so well, he might have missed the paleness in Harry's cheeks, the fact that he's wearing his lucky socks.

"We all ready?" Louis asks. They nod.

The plan is this: meet at the park, as usual. Nothing suspicious. Then, they casually walk into town, grab a bite to eat, and as they're passing the train station, just duck inside, not a fuss.

' _Foolproof_ ' is how Louis puts it, as they begin said walk into town. Liam prefers ' _risky'_ but he's also smiling, keeps two-stepping his way up the path and throwing the occassional boxing strike into the air.

"Liam James Payne," Louis tuts. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you're acting excited about this whole thing."

"Guess you've corrupted me," Liam laughs.

"No," Louis mutters, "no, I reckon this is all you."

 

They decide on pizza in town, Louis claiming he needs the comfort food, but Zayn is having trouble finding his appetite and his voice. Both seem to have disappeared into his nerves, along with his energy. Liam is bouncing around like a wild thing, but while they're in queue at the Italian restaurant, he wraps his arms around Zayn from behind. "You okay?"

Not holding himself up feels so good. Zayn leans back into Liam's arms and doesn't say anything. Liam doesn't push it.

They're seated with Zayn and Liam on one side of the table and Harry and Louis on the other. Zayn rests his head on his arms. Harry props his feet up on Zayn's own, and even that touch is reassuring. Louis takes his hand, the one resting on the table, even as he carries on this story about his neighbour's cousin's sister's husband. Liam has an arm around Zayn's shoulders, and he's rubbing Zayn's bicep with the tips of his fingers.

One of the waiters shouts something in Italian, and Harry snorts into his glass of water.

"What?" asks Liam, around the same time as Louis says, "You speak Italian?"

Sheepish, Hary shrugs. "Yeah. We had to take two languages in school."

Louis huffs. "Private schools."

"What'd he say, though?" Liam presses.

Harry smiles. " ' _For the quadruple boyfriend_ ', more or less. A less direct translation would be --"

"No," Louis interrupts. "I like the quadruple-boyfriend. We sound like a combined Zorg."

Zayn cracks a smile at that, disentangles their fingers for a moment to give him a bro-fist. "Power Rangers roar," he mumbles, and that's enough to set Louis off.

" _There's a light! In the distance! See it coming closer!_ "

" _With the voice of ages_ ," Liam joins in, " _centuries gone byyy._ "

"POWER RANGERS ROAR!" Louis cries, loudly enough that some of the other customers look over at them. He doesn't pay them any mind, and Zayn begrudgingly joins in.

By the second verse, Harry is moaning over the top of them, "I HOPE OUR IRISH BOY ISN'T A HUGE NERD LIKE ALL OF YOU!" and Louis hushes him between lines.

They settle when their food is brought to them (Louis primly returning to his seat) and it's quite obvious their waiter is trying not to laugh. "Anything else, sirs?" he says, smiling.

"Ooh," says Harry. "Hang on!" He goes down under the tables and pushes Liam's feet off his bag. "Can we have another glass?"

The waiter shoots them an amused look. They all shrug and make confused noises.

"I will be back," the waiter says and leaves.

When he comes back, Harry has resurfaced, and in his hands he has a bunch of slightly crumpled flowers. "Thank you!" he says to the waiter. Filling the glass with their pitcher of water, he puts the bunch of flowers in it. "See? That's nicer. Let's eat."

Zayn is baffled yet endeared, as he is so often with Harry, and goes for a slice of pizza without asking any questions.

"Very romantic," the waiter says, half chuckling to himself, and then he bows out and goes back to the counter where the cashier is watching them with a smile.

Zayn still can't find his appetite; he pulls the melted cheese off his slice and eats that, listening to Harry talk with his mouth full. He watches the flowers, too, and he doesn't say a lot. He's not feeling good, but they're all touching him somehow and he knows they all care, which is going to have to be enough.

 


	9. Chapter 9

As far as he can remember, Zayn's never actually been into the train station in their town. He's been past it a lot, caught glimpses of it through the automatic doors, but nothing more than that.

It's a fairly modest station; small inside area with a desk of tourist pamphlets and two ticket machines, which they don't even have to use since they've done everything online.

Waiting for the train isn't that bad, either. There's benches to sit on – for the first little while, at least. They all end up standing, to give sitting space to a heavily pregnant woman. Harry's face absolutely lights up when he sees her, and in the time it takes to blink, he's already introduced himself, found out when the baby's due, and is now asking about names she's considering. She doesn't seem annoyed (the opposite, in fact, she seems quite charmed) so they leave him to it.

Louis and Liam are in full-on operation mode now. Zayn's place was the paperwork, the fact checks, but now that they're in the field, he relinquishes his partner place entirely to Liam. Louis has his folder of notes - which Zayn checked and Liam organised into something vaguely linear and cohesive - resting in the crook of his arm. Louis is kind of buzzy, which means this is Liam's forte, for sure. Zayn's never not amazed by how good Liam is at keeping Louis's plans running smoothly

Zayn's mum is probably starting to think about dinner, completely carefree. His throat gets tight.

"Hey. Hey, man." Harry nudges him.

"Jesus, I need to not talk about it, alright?" grunts Zayn. Hurt flashes across Harry's face, and Zayn feels bad right away. "Sorry, Harry."

"It's okay." Harry breathes out and their eyes meet. "I know that when you do that, it's about you, not me."

Zayn gets a feeling best described as butterflies. "Yeah," he says. "It's. Yeah. Thanks, like."

Harry smiles, offers his hand, and Zayn gladly takes it.

"There it is!" exclaims Louis, and Zayn and Harry both turn to look.

It's the train, only a few minutes late. It chuffs in, carriages sliding on and on, til the length of it runs alongside the platform. A hiss, then the doors open, and people start streaming off. Harry holds Zayn's hand a little tighter.

"Okay," says Liam, in his Checklist Voice, "all here? Do we all have our suitcases? Phones?" Once they've checked for him, he breaks into a tiny, nervous grin. "Great. Great. Let's go."

The boarding call sounds, and he's back to business, herding them and grabbing Louis's suitcase to carry for him. Even as he does what Zayn's pretty sure is a headcount even though there's only four of them, he's arguing with Louis, something along the lines of, "If you'd just brought what I packed for you, at least you'd be able to lift the damn thing!"

The pregnant woman steps on. She shoots Liam and Louis, who are still rowing, a look that's strangely familiar, a distant fondness.

"The domesticity of young love," she jokes to Harry, and he gives a tremendous sigh.

"I _know_ , right."

Liam barks something like, "Stop making me laugh! I'm cross with you!" and Zayn puts a hand over his mouth to hide his grin.

"Reckon they'll last?" Harry asks the woman, tone somewhere between woeful and affectionate.

"Yeah," she answers with a smile. "They're a match. Right handful, though, I bet. Their poor parents."

Even Zayn is able to see the funny side to that as Harry says, "You've no idea."

 

The ride to London has, understandably, a good few stops. Each stop has Louis and Liam on the timer, trying to assess whether the train is going to run late, based on the assumed stop times as opposed to how it actually happens. Zayn and Harry become interested as Louis starts to make it more and more like a game. He raises his voice and counts down as if it's a countdown to the end of the world.

Two college students behind them lean over the seat and ask what's going on; Harry explains as best as he can without looking away from the timer on Louis's phone.

One at a time, people start to get the idea; people standing by the door start ushering boarding passengers on faster, and a few who are leaving wish them luck. A youngish couple excitedly dash to the next carriage along to spread the word.

"Wherever we go," Zayn sighs to Harry, "It's all 'be sneaky, be subtle, don't draw attention, blah blah blah', and then we get here and _this_ happens."

Harry laughs. "We're inspiring, man, that's all. Our friendship is inspiring."

He's kidding, and Zayn knows he is, but he can't help noticing the way people seem to be talking to each other; animated and engaged. He's not been on a train a whole lot, but he's ridden the bus for probably a few years of his life altogether, and nobody ever behaved like this.

 _Lou and her daughter_ , says a small voice in the back of his mind. _The cafe. The restaurant earlier today._

He shoos it away. Those are places meant for people to connect – meant for good vibes, as Harry would put it if asked. He's imagining things, probably.

 

One of the stops goes a good thirty seconds overtime, and when the train starts again, Liam actually whoops out loud. The college students behind them high-five.

"THIRTY SECONDS TO MAKE UP, PEOPLE!" Louis calls, and the number circulates around. Next stop, people are ready, stampeding off when the doors open. When Zayn strains against the window, he can see that it's not only their group; all the way along the platform, people are being hurried off and on, excited arms waving and serious faces explaining to the newcomers.

"Liam," says Zayn. "Liam, I've just realised something."

"Wait!" Liam says, his gaze daring between the door where the last boarders are practically being hauled on and Louis's timer.

"I think it's important," Zayn attempts, but he's drowned out by the cheering when Louis announces,

"TWENTY SECONDS AHEAD!"

"Only ten to make up!" Liam says, turning to Zayn. His beaming smile fades. "Are you okay?"

Zayn can only bear the sight of that face for a brief moment. "Great," he replies, smiling, and he does mean it. Liam returns to giggling, bouncing his legs as they wait for the next stop.

 

"Next stop, London!" says the overhead voice, and Louis pretends to wipe a tear.

"That's our stop! Thirty – I repeat, _thirty –_ seconds to spare!"

"Give yourselves a hand!" Harry says, shaking his head and applauding.

People come up to talk to them; a few thank them. "Most entertaining train ride of my career," says a gruff older man, who is holding a briefcase.

"What career is that, then?" asks Louis lightly.

Glancing both ways, the man flashes them the inside of his jacket. A shiny badge blinks at them. "Casual clothes," he explains, and they can only laugh in response.

Harry hugs some people; one of the college students behind them passes Liam his number.

"You should give me a call sometime," the guy says, his eyes not-so-subtly going over Liam's face, slowing on his lips.

Liam goes a colour Zayn would best describe as crimson. "Maybe I will."

Their stop name is called as the train pulls to a halt, and Louis, unladen since Liam is carrying his luggage, gleefully bids farewell as he leads them out onto the platform, along with a few of the other passengers, who wave goodbye to them like old friends.

Zayn's fairly convinced of what's happening, but he's fine to be happy about it for the time being. Louis is still speaking in his stage voice, Harry can't stop beaming, and Liam is definitely skip-hop-jumping every few steps.

"To Ireland!" Louis cries, and they try to echo it, but they're out of time with each other and Liam starts to laugh too hard to talk properly.

 

Crossing platforms to reach their train in time requires them going at a bit of a run, which Zayn isn't the biggest fan of, but Harry takes his hand and pulls him along, helping to propel him forward. The next train is pulling in as they arrive, and they cheer and high-five and Zayn's fairly sure someone kisses his cheek but he's not sure who it was.

"You okay, Zayn?" asks Louis.

"Not too much for you?" Liam suggests.

Louis grins. "Not gonna vom? Faint, maybe?"

Zayn has to take a moment to catch his breath. When he does, he uses it to insult them many times over, and then at their carefree laughter, to growl, "Let's just get on the bloody train."

Slapping his back, Harry helps him up into the carriage. Even as they keep teasing, ("We'll need a stretcher to carry you everywhere after this, bro," jokes Liam), their eyes are caring and safe.

This train is obviously meant for longer-term travel, different amounts of space and no handrails from the ceiling. Liam gets them all sat down and begins lifting their suitcases up into the luggage rack. Harry tries to help, but after he nearly falls off the seat, Liam kisses his forehead and says, "Probably best if you just stay sitting, Styles."

Harry sighs and flumps down into his seat, putting his legs over Louis's lap. "Can I go to sleep?"

It's only five, according to Harry's watch, but Liam says, "Yeah, get some sleep. We'll be up early when we come into the station, anyway."

"That's right, Harold," soothes Louis, petting Harry's knee. "Get your beauty sleep. You're no good to us without your looks!"

"Shut up," Harry mumbles, closing his eyes.

The train tenses and then starts to plough out of the station. Zayn settles into his seat by the window; diagonally opposite him, Louis gives him a small smile, hand still rubbing Harry's knee.

They send Liam to go order them food from the dinner cart, and he leaves muttering about never becoming a father if this is what children are like. He's smiling the whole way.

Harry's breathing has slowed; he's properly asleep now. "So much excitement for one day," coos Louis, looking at him with this goofy, soft smile, and Zayn gets a happy buzz in his stomach at the sight of them.

"We're going to nail this," Louis says, still looking at Harry. "We're going to get to Ireland, find this kid, convince him to elope with us, and then we're all going to get married. Then Harry's going to buy us an island and a private jet."

"And we'll live happily ever after," Zayn finishes, smiling despite himself. Louis's ring is dark purple.

"Exactly." Louis rests back into his seat and pulls out his phone. "What're you going to do for the next twelve hours or so?"

"Read a bit. Mostly sleep on Liam," says Zayn, and Louis nods, knowing that was a serious answer.

"We need a manager or something," Liam grumbles, upon his return. "Like, someone to do this all for us. Come on, we have to eat down there."

Liam scoops Harry up, piggy back style. He stirs momentarily to press his cheek into Liam's shoulder and smile a bit before he dozes off again. They must be quite a sight, walking through the carriages in a slightly shaky fashion all the way to the dinner cart, but Zayn only sees positive feelings in the gazes of everyone else, so it's not like they're being a nuisance.

Outside, the landscape steadily grows darker, until the view is a sea of lit windows and streetlamps. Harry wakes up enough to be fed a few bites of Louis's food. They don't spend too long eating, mostly in silence, and they return to their carriage the moment they're done.

Settling back in, with the soft murmur of Liam and Louis talking about different places in Ireland, and the rumble of the rails underneath him, Zayn feels his body grow tired. He rests his head against the window and closes his eyes.

 

When he opens them again, it's much, much darker, and he has the weight of Liam's head on his shoulder. Across from him, Harry's mouth is hanging open.

They pass a light, and Louis's eyes catch it for a moment, like a cat. Zayn smiles and whispers what's supposed to be something like ' _hey_ ', but comes out more like ' _nngh_ '. He's more asleep than he thought.

"You awake?" Louis asks. Barely moving his mouth, his voice still feels too loud for this quiet space.

"Yeah," Zayn says, and it sounds like an actual word and less like a grunt. "Should be hot in here, but I'm cold." He feels good about having completed a whole sentence. His eyelids are drooping, and a yawn is bubbling in the top of his chest.

"Air conditioning," explains Louis. "D'you want my jumper?"

Zayn pulls the plaid shirt closer to him and shakes his head. "Thanks."

Hushed, they look at each other for a moment. Zayn feels thoughts and feelings from earlier come rushing back to him, and he's so sleepy he can't process them in his head. "Do you think this stuff is happening to us for a reason? Do you think it's for something, like?"

Louis balances his arms on Harry's shins. "What, like a superhero origin story?"

"Not really." Zayn's eyes are closing of their own accord, so he lets them. He can't see much in this light anyway. "More like magic."

Louis's voice is gentle. "This is magical, Zayn. There's no way that you're all just _here_. It's definitely, definitely magical."

"Definitely," Zayn echoes and goes back to sleep.  
  
Periodically throughout the night, Liam or Louis will shake him awake and drag him to his feet to change trains. It's potentially the worst night of Zayn's life, for that reason alone. When it's Liam, he half-carries Zayn, and when it's Louis, he drags him as best he can. They might be taking turns being the awake one, but Zayn is too out of it to really notice. The trains get less and less comfortable as the night goes on, but Zayn gets more and more exhausted, and by the time he's on the last one, he's barely in his seat before he's asleep.

 

The next time he's woken fully and properly, there's a gentle hand patting him on the face.

"Zayn. Zayn, mate."

"Mmf," Zayn replies eloquently.

"Zayn, c'mon bro. We arrive in half an hour to catch the ferry, we need to talk through what we're gonna do."

It's Liam. Being completely honest, the way he's rubbing Zayn's cheeks isn't helping him wake up. If anything it's soothing him back to sleep.

"Zayn," Liam sighs. "Babe, please."

Zayn wants to swear at him, or threaten him with something, but when he cracks open one eye and sees Liam's face, eyebrows drawn together and a hopeful smile forming across his lips. Well. Understandably, he doesn't have a suitable counterattack.

"Okay," he mumbles, pawing at his face and sitting up. "I'm good."

Louis gives him a round of applause, which Harry (who looks about as awake as Zayn feels) joins in on. Zayn bows, and then rests his head and arms on the table with a groan. He's so _tired_ , he could turn to stone right there and then.

"Zayyyn," whinges Liam.

"I'm sure he's listening," says Louis, kicking Zayn under the table. "If he's not, he just won't know what's going on later."

Zayn growls, turns his head so he can see Liam and slurs, "Go on, then, I can see you're dying to tell us the plan."

Blushing, Liam clears his throat. His nose goes red when he blushes, which Zayn has noticed before but always has time to appreciate. "Based on the boy's accent, or what we remember of it, anyway, we've narrowed it down to about half a dozen towns. In those towns, we're looking for him, and him specifically. The least amount of fuss possible, yeah? Me and Louis have plotted out a course between the towns, where we might stay if we end up being there overnight. It'll depend on funds."

He places a map on the table in front of them. It looks like it's been printed off Google Maps, but they've added annotations and highlights with pens since then. Zayn has a hard time understanding what it all means, even though Liam and Louis are explaining it together as though it makes perfect sense. Harry's face is hard to read, but that might very well be because he's not paying any attention to what they're saying.

Whatever the case, once they reach the station, Zayn is practically where he started, only even more glad that he refused from the start to be part of mapping.

 

Zayn spends most of the ferry ride trying to catch up on lost sleep, and also not to be sick. He doesn't do well with the sea. Harry sits next to him and holds his hand.

 

They must be quite a sight, the four of them, all travel-rumpled and bleary, Liam carrying both Louis's suitcase and his own, Harry all wrapped around Louis like ' _a long, benign boa constrictor_ ' in Louis's own words. Zayn watches Louis turn the map three times before figuring out which way is the right way up, and he finds himself ever so slightly concerned about Louis's navigational skills.

 

The first day's search doesn't do much more than give them a nice tour of their first town. They eat at a really lovely cafe for lunch, where everything is beautifully made and beautifully cheap. The landscape is beautiful, too. Zayn almost wants to pause the search, to sit and draw for awhile.

 

Almost. No signs of the boy or the place where they met him in the dream. By mid-afternoon, they're already going to bus to the next place.

 

"We can't let it get us down," Liam keeps saying even though nobody is down yet.

 

By the time they reach the next town (after a bus ride involving lots of Irish folk and an impromptu singalong with the entire bus, driver included, instigated by Louis and wonderfully conducted by him as well) it's nearly dark. Louis is eager to carry on their exploration anyway, but Liam vetoes the idea.

"We won't recognise the place in the dark," he says. Sometimes he's sensible to the point of parodying himself. "Plus, I've been up since before five this morning and I will turn into the Hulk if I don't get some sleep soon."

Louis frowns like he wants to argue, but Zayn knows he won't. Not with Liam pouting like that, anyway.

 

Accomodation is so expensive it makes even Harry shudder. As they pass a third motel with prices too high for them to even think about, morale begins to fail. They've all but given up when they see a tiny, flickering sign of ' _vacancy_ '. "Last place we check," decides Liam. "If this one's anything like the others, we'll have to find a park somewhere or... something."

Zayn _prays_.

The price is still pushing their budget (apparently their internet prices were outdated, they're realising), but it's nothing compared to the others they saw. The man behind the desk, a gruff old fellow who has probably been doing this job for longer than anyone should have to, leads them to the couple room they've rented and dubiously asks, "Are you sure this is enough for all of you?"

A quick look around shows Zayn a small room, dimly lit, with the world's smallest double bed in the center and a door off to the right that must lead to an en-suite bathroom.

"This is just fine," replies Louis, pushing inside.

"Thanks," adds Liam, sounding embarrassed.

"Okay then," says the man, the way he might have also said, ' _your funeral_ '. He drops the key into Liam's hand and shuffles away, but Zayn sees him smile to himself.

"These sheets probably haven't been washed for awhile," observes Harry, nose wrinkling. Zayn has to agree that they're not the most inviting bedspread he's ever seen, and he's not particularly picky.

"Don't worry about that," answers Louis, already opening his suitcase and beckoning to Liam. "You two shower, okay? We'll sort this out."

Zayn feels very patronized, but Harry takes it in his stride. "Okay! C'mon, Zayn."

While Harry brushes his teeth at the slightly grotty sink, Zayn showers. All things considered, the shower could be a lot worse. He lets the hot water run for a few moments, so he can be sure the floor isn't disgusting to stand on, and then gets in.

Showering is absolutely worth it. Zayn all but moans at the feeling of water on his scalp and down his back, washing the clinging film of travel from his skin. He's brought along his soap (one of the few things he couldn't leave behind) and the smell and feel of it eases his oncoming homesickness enough that he can nearly relax again.

He gives himself a good foam and rinse, and then simply stands in the gush of the water for a minute or so. He's enjoying the quiet, the peace of being by himself, even though he knows the others are out the door – that Harry will be back any second demanding his own turn.

It's nice to have a break from all the external sound, however brief.

 

Liam is really impressed by Louis's ability to think of things, even if he's had to carry the resulting amount of luggage around all day. Louis pulls the packed sheets out of his suitcase while Liam peels the old one off the mattress.

It's silly, but Liam's domestic knowledge is honestly next-to-nothing beyond folding clothes and washing dishes. Now that the sheets are off, he doesn't really know what to do with them, much less with the fresh ones Louis has in his arms.

"Liam James Payne," gasps Louis (he does that a lot), tone mock-scandalised, "are you telling me that you don't know how to make a bed?"

"I know the theory," Liam protests, which is almost true. He's watched his mum do it a few times.

"Disgraceful," Louis declares. "Here, out of the way, I'll do it." He continues in a more muttery voice. "Yeah, you're tall as a tree and strong as a brick wall and all that, but I ask you to _change some bed sheets_ and what are you? _Useless._ "

"Hey, I've just never—" sputters Liam, but he's interrupted by Harry.

"Zaynnn," Harry whines over his shoulder as he leaves the bathroom, "Mum and Dad are fighting again!"

Zayn doesn't reply, but Liam laughs and lets the sheets drop into a misshappen pile on the ground.

Harry gathers his change of clothes and heads back."Hey," says Liam, and Harry stops.

"Mm?"

"Maybe." Liam glances at the door. Zayn was so exhausted when they arrived that Liam saw him put his hands over his ears for a moment. It's not the first time he's seen Zayn go that far to blot out chatter, but that doesn't stop him being concerned. "Let's give him a few minutes, yeah?"

"Oh." Harry nods quickly. "Of course. Sure."

Liam smiles, grateful, and Harry smiles back. His hair is in quite a state, and Liam's fairly sure he's not imagining the nervousness in how Harry moves his hands.

Nighttime is hard for Harry, he remembers, when he's away from home.

Instinct is a difficult thing for Liam, as he's constantly second-guessing himself and his gut feelings, sure that somehow they'll be wrong. Despite all that, the decision to grab Harry and give him a noogie is not a hard one.

Laughing and exclaming, "Liam! Liam, stop!" Harry tips backwards and lands with a _flump!_ on the bed.

"Oh for God's sake!" Louis snaps. "The one time you decide to be any fun, Liam, honestly. Get _up_ ,Harold, really now."

Giggling still, Liam offers his hand to Harry and pulls him upright. "Go have your shower."

As Harry passes, Louis halts him for long enough to whisper something in his ear. Liam has to assume it's another one of their in-jokes because Harry is still wheezing with laughter when he gets to the ensuite.

Moments later, Zayn emerges, wearing an old white tank and his boxers. He looks wiped; Liam gets a pang in his chest at the sight of him. "Is the bed ready yet?" Zayn asks Louis.

Louis turns to him, face ready in ' _Snark Levels: Deadly_ ' but when he sees Zayn's eyes, the slump in his shoulders, it changes to more like ' _Cuddle Levels: Lethal_ '. "Nearly, bro. You okay?"

"Fine. 'M tired," answers Zayn, palming one of his eyes.

"Yeah, okay, Captain Obvious," Louis murmurs, turning back to the bed. "Gimme a mo'."

Zayn leans on the wall and covers his mouth as he yawns. Liam shoots him a sympathetic smile. They all make fun of Zayn for being slothlike, but in all honesty, Liam understands that things simply wear Zayn down faster; that nerves don't give him energy, they take it away. He wishes life could be a little gentler, go a little slower, for Zayn's sake.

Tossing the pillows onto the bed, Louis takes a step back and puts his hands on his hips. "Okay. Go ahead, man."

Zayn sprawls face-first onto the mattress with possibly the longest sigh Liam has ever heard. Louis pats Zayn's thigh and calls, "Harry, you dressed?"

"Nearly!" Harry replies, voice muffled.

Liam clears his throat. "You can go next."

"You sure?" Louis looks dubious. "I'm fine to wait, you can go."

"No, no." Liam crosses his arms. "I insist, mate. You need it."

"Hey," says Louis. "Are you taking a crack at my hair?" He huffs and marches away into the bathroom before Liam can apologise.

The view out the window, of all the little house lights through the dark, is very pretty, and it makes Liam realise exactly how sleepy he is. His focus all day has been on keeping track of the boys and their plan and making sure everyone's okay as they can be while getting things done. Now, in a moment of quiet, he's able to acknowledge the ache in all his muscles. His shoulders hurt the worst.

Harry stumbles over and flops onto the bed, curling up against Zayn's side. He's tight and clinging. Zayn drapes an arm over him without opening his eyes, and eventually their breaths fall into sync.

Liam turns back to the window, gazes out it for awhile. A few of the lights turn off. On the hillside, he sees the flash of car headlights.

 

"Hey." Louis's voice is hushed, nearly a whisper. He points to Harry and Zayn and makes a sleeping gesture, hands tucked under his cheek. Then he goes upon his toes and rests his elbows on the windowsill, shoulder pressed to Liam's. "You should go get un-grossed."

"Yeah," agrees Liam, and doesn't move.

Louis gives him a little push. "Go. Then we can both go to bed."

Sleep sounds really good; sleep with all of them near sounds even better. "Alright. I'm going."

"See you when you're no longer filthy," says Louis with a grin. "Oh, wait. That's never."

Liam shoves him, grabs his clothes, and takes a few steps.

"Hey, Liam. Thanks for all your help today."

He smiles so big he can feel his eyes closing. "No problem, Tommo." Then, to make sure they aren't getting to be too much, "obviously, you need it."

 

He showers as fast as he can. He's so tired, and the thought of them all there waiting for him makes both the drowsiness and the separation anxiety worse, the latter even though they're in the next room.

Tip-toeing back into the bedroom, the only sounds are Harry snoring softly and Louis occasionally shuffling around in his sleep. They're pressed together to make room on the bed, which was designed for about one and a half people, and there's a space on the edge closest to the door which, he thinks with a small smile, definitely looks like they saved it for him.

Lying down is the best. The _best_. Liam can't remember the last time anything felt as good as lying down does.

Even though they're all probably asleep, he says, "Love you," to them in the dark. He gets the sound of their breathing in response, and it's reassuring. Soon enough, he's fast asleep himself.

 

In the morning, he wakes to summer sunlight on his abdomen, sleep coating his face, and Louis and Harry already up. Louis is trying to figure out the weirdest food he could order via room service. Harry is mostly snickering.

"Some sort of shrimp," muses Louis, "deep fried in honey lettuce."

Harry presses a hand over his mouth in order to quiet his laughing. "What's honey lettuce?"

"It's lettuce," Louis says conspiratorially, "that's been marinated in honey for three and a half hours."

"That's not real," Harry scoffs, shoulders happily hunched.

"No," agrees Louis, with a smirk, "no, it's not." He begins to dial.

"Louis," Liam says, unable to help himself. He knows he's being a killjoy. "Don't do that. The service people here are probably working bad hours and underpaid as it is."

Harry frowns. "Oh, best not then. We don't want to be mean."

With a sad noise, Louis replaces the phone. "You're right. I'm only mean to rich people, as a general rule.

"Ohhh," says Harry thoughtfully. "That explains a lot about our relationship. I had wondered why we don't get along."

Louis pets his cheek and says, "Well, now you know!" before coming over to the bed and draping himself artistically over Liam. "Good morning."

"Hi, Louis," yawns Liam. "Sleep well?"

"Splendidly," answers Louis. "And yourself?"

Liam shrugs. "Would've been better if someone wasn't kicking me in their sleep all night." He hasn't slept that soundly in weeks.

At the same time as Harry says, "THAT WAS LOUIS!" Louis cries, "IT WASN'T ME!"

Liam puts his head back into his pillow and begs, voice muffled, "Please just get us breakfast."

 

Zayn is awake by the time breakfast arrives. Liam doesn't notice until he goes to rouse him and sees his eyes are already open. He's got that face on, the one Liam can never quite read, eyes distant and a slight crease in his brow. He looks like that a lot when he's smoking, but it's rare this early in the morning.

"Hey," says Liam, smiling, and Zayn shifts, smiles back.

"Mornin', Li," he says. "Food?"

"Food," agrees Liam, and that's all it takes to convince Zayn to sit up.

 

They eat on the bed ("Whatever, these are our sheets anyway," in the words of Louis) and discuss the day's plan. It's very similar to yesterday's, except less exciting and carefree.

"If we don't find him today," Liam says, "I don't think we can afford another motel night."

"We'll have to sleep in a carpark or something," Harry says miserably.

Liam's sure it's just him, but Zayn seems quiet. Quiter than usual, even. He keeps looking at Louis, like he's expecting – hoping for? – something.

"We don't have much longer before people back home figure something's fishy, too," Louis adds, and it seems like he genuinely hasn't noticed Zayn watching him. "All it takes is one of our parents talking to Mrs Cox and the whole thing is blown."

"We have to move faster," concludes Harry, and Louis nods.

Zayn is making that face again, and he's barely touched his scrambled eggs. Pushing them away, he says, "I'm at least gonna shower again before we leave."

"Ooh." Louis snaps his fingers. "A good plan. Wish I'd thought of it first."

Zayn laughs, which Liam is glad to see. Laughing is usually a good sign with Zayn.

 

As soon as Zayn's gone and the rush of water is sounding, Harry says, "Do you think he's okay?"

"If there's something to tell us," Louis replies immediately, "then he'll tell us."

Harry bites his lip. "Mm. Okay."

"Don't worry your pretty little head about it, at any rate," Louis adds, patting Harry's hair. Harry smiles.

 

They're having no luck in the next town. Louis's list of places feels far too long and they're walking around to save the money and time for waiting for a bus. Liam is fine – he's well fit enough for all this, but team spirit is definitely dwindling.

 

Evening falls, and Liam is glad this town is so sweet and small and straight-edge because otherwise he'd never let them sleep in a field, but that's where they end up. It's on the outskirts, void of livestock (at least for now), and there's some overgrown grass near the fence that seems safe enough and bramble-free.

"Should we check for snakes?" he asks, and Louis lets out a barking laugh.

"No snakes in Ireland, babe," Zayn says, smiling, and Liam feels the heat rise to his face.

"Oh. Right, of course."

Harry makes himself comfortable in the grass as though he's in his own bed back home. Louis is making do, and Liam has been camping more than enough times to be comfortable sleeping outside.

Zayn seems off, but no more than he has been all day. Liam gives him a bit of a cuddle, tries to make sure he's alright, and dozes off fairly soon afterwards.

 

He's jolted at some point before dawn by Zayn moving out from under his arm. There's a soft, repetitive buzz.

"Zayn?" Liam breathes. "What's wrong?"

"Louis's mum's texting."

Liam doesn't ask why Zayn is checking Louis's phone; doesn't even bother asking why Zayn knows the passcode. Instead he asks, "What's she saying?"

"She's saying she doesn't understand what's happened, and wants to know if it was something she did." Zayn swallows. "She says she loves him no matter what and wants to know what's going on."

The thoughts rushing through Liam's mind – _when did she find out how did she find out does my mum know -_ are no doubt the same ones going through Zayn's head, and they mutually move closer to hug.

"We're idiots," says Zayn. It's not teasing like usual. It's not even bitter. If anything, it's... disappointed? Liam's sure there's a better word for it, but he doesn't know it. Zayn probably does.

He reaches up to rub Zayn's back. "Yeah," is the only response he has.

Sitting in silence could be helping, or it could be making it worse. Liam doesn't know, but it's not like he has anything to say anyway.

"I think I know how to find him," Zayn confesses, and both the sudden sound and his words make Liam jump.

"What?"

"Might know how to find him," Zayn repeats, stronger this time. "Only, it messes with the plan. A lot."

Liam's breath catches. "The plan," he reminds Zayn, "is just one way to get where we're going. If you have another way, I think we'll be happy to at least try it."

"It might not work." Zayn's withdrawing now, hunching his shoulders, and Liam wants to grab him and hold him outside himself.

"It might!" he encourages. "Do you want to tell it to me?"

"I feel like I should tell everyone at once," Zayn admits, and his eyes go straight to Louis.

"Got you." Liam squeezes Zayn's shoulders. "It's gonna be okay, you know."

Zayn lets out a wobbly breath. "God, I hope so."

 

Liam bags getting Harry up, but Zayn uses his god damn eyelashes, so next thing, Liam is sitting in the dew-damp grass shaking Louis's shoulder.

Rattling off the usual chain of profanities, Louis slowly opens one eye. "Oh, Christ," he growls. "If you were Zayn I could hit you."

(Somewhere behind Liam, Zayn gives a "Ha!" of triumph.)

"I'm sorry," says Liam, not quite sure whether he's apologising for not being Zayn or for waking Louis up or for what they're going to tell him. He feels he should apologise, at any rate. "You need to get up, though."

Louis's response is a heaving sigh. "Well, I suppose it must be important if Zayn's awake for it." Sitting up, he clasps his hands in his lap, eyes drowsy but face alert. "Fire away."

Cool breezes are a thing in this field, apparently. Liam keeps feeling them and getting goosebumps. He's glad it's summer. Winter here must be arctic.

Harry must feel it too, because as he crawls over to them, he shivers, dodges so he's cuddled up between Liam and Louis. "I know I'll hate the sun when it's up," he says, "but I miss it now."

Now that they're all there, Zayn seems unsure of himself. He pulls out a few strands of grass and "um"s once or twice.

"Come on, out with it," says Louis, not unkindly. "Start with the worst news and go from there."

"Okay, then." Zayn takes a big breath. "Worst news is: I'm pregnant."

It takes Liam a moment to realise he's joking. When he does, he laughs, along with Harry and Louis, who cottoned on much faster.

Their giggling dies down, and Zayn looks somewhat less tense. "Second worse news is: I've confiscated everyone's phones, so sorry about that."

"Objection," says Louis firmly. "Why was this intervention staged? Are we within our rights to argue?"

Liam nudges him. "Rules of the Plan, Section I, page 2, amendment 4."

Silence.

"It's in your book, Louis," he clarifies. "Your plan book. Look at the rules."

Glaring something fierce, Louis gets out his book and daintily flicks through to the rules. " _Amendment 4,_ " he reads aloud, " _If any man discovers interventional messages to anyone else, he may confiscate said message, its transmitter, and any like it, until he believes it safe to return them with no risk of mission abandonment._ " His face goes rather solemn. "Well. That's a rubbish rule."

"You wrote them," Harry reminds him. His tone is casual, but his expression is grim.

"For _me_ to use!" Louis retorts. "Not to be used against me! This is mutiny."

Zayn doesn't laugh. "They figured out something was up last night so I sent out our group text to say we're all okay, but...bro, if you see these." He rubs the bridge of his nose. "If you see these, you'll try to cross-country leg it home."

"Is everyone okay?" Louis checks. "No one's hurt and dying in hospital or anything?"

"I promise they're fine." Zayn takes Liam's hand, possibly because it's the one closest to him. Liam gets a warm feeling in his toes nonetheless. Zayn mumbles "I have an idea. To find the kid, but it goes against one of the Key Points."

The Key Points are the golden rules, absolutely not to be broken. Louis flips to their page. "Avoid hitchhiking?" he guesses.

"No. Well, not yet." Zayn shrugs.

"No being distracted by other heroics?" Liam guesses. He knows that was on the list.

Zayn shakes his head.

"No stealing each other's toothbrushes, in the exception of life-threatening danger?" Harry suggests through a yawn.

"No adopting children?" Liam offers.

"No, no." Zayn looks nervous. "The one that's left."

Scanning the page, Louis gives a sharp start. Then he looks up, eyes narrow. "Really?"

Liam cannot remember the remaining Key Point for the life of him. Leaning over when he can't make himself wait any longer, he sees, printed in huge, all-caps letters,

_'ABSOLUTELY NO DISCUSSION / REVEALING OF PLAN WITH ANYONE, EXCEPTIONS BEING: HONEY BADGER, BARBIE, TEDDY BEAR, GREEN LANTERN, AND THE IRISH BOY'._

"I have an idea," says Zayn, "and for it to work, we're going to need all the help we can get."

At points, as he explains it to them, Zayn's voice goes quiet or he tells himself off, but they're always right there to encourage him to keep going. When he finishes, he sighs, like its a weight off his chest.

"It could work," says Louis slowly. "We could make it."

"It could," agrees Harry. "Only... look, I don't want to be the pessimist –"

"Someone's swallowed a dictionary," jokes Liam, and Harry sticks out his tongue.

"—What makes you think these people will help us?"

In this, of all things, Zayn seems confident. "From when we met until now," he says, "all of us, since when have strangers not been open and kind and helpful?"

Louis and Liam exchange a look over the top of Harry's head. Louis's expression is a strong mix of cynical and excited. Liam's fairly sure he himself looks confused.

The pieces fall into place as he remembers all the people, people who have given them helping hands on the way – the fact that that's been _everyone_.

"Oh my god," says Louis.

"Yeah," says Zayn, understanding.

Liam is trying to count the people, now – the cafe staff, the restaurant waiters, the mother at the playground, people on their bus rides who have been so, so considerate. Everywhere they go the mood goes with them, brings people to life, to the best versions of themselves.

"Oh my god," he echoes.


	10. Chapter 10

With the sun just risen and the sound of movement rising in both the fields and the roads, Zayn sits with his sketchpad on his knees and draws furiously. They're gathered in a circle nearby him, brainstorming ideas for a cover story.

"Long lost cousin?" offers Harry, as though any of them look like they could be related to each other, much less to a blonde Irish boy.

"We're hitmen!" exclaims Louis. "We're MI-6 agents and the kid is wanted."

"That'll just get us arrested," Liam points out.

Quietly, Harry mumbles, "We could tell the truth."

"People will think we're crazy," Liam says. He hates always having to be the wet blanket, but it's true. He looks to Louis for back up.

Louis has a strange look on his face. "Well."

" ' _Well_ ' what?" Liam huffs. "We can't."

"We couldn't tell them the whole truth," agrees Louis. "More a... a stylised retelling."

Liam and Harry catch each other's eyes; Harry shrugs like _search me_.

"About half a year ago," says Louis, eyes gleaming, "we met this boy. Friendly, funny, sweet, overall really great and cool. We didn't catch a name or a phone number, but we could tell from his accent that he's very obviously Irish. So we're out here trying to find him again as a kind of... summer adventure. A gap year project. A bonding exercise."

"You think they'll believe we thought this guy was cool enough to come all the way out here looking for him," says Harry, so slowly that Liam loses track of how the sentence began, "but we didn't get his number? Or his name?"

Louis shrugs. "That's where I'm hoping Zayn's magic will pull through for us."

 

In the next town, they begin the process of door-to-door, of going into shops and cafes and asking around. Zayn presents his sketches while Louis explains their situation as theatrically or simply as he feels will suit the listener. Louis can be a very good people pleaser when he wants to be. Liam forgets that sometimes, because Louis barely ever wants to be.

Liam's nervous at first, tries so hard to look presentable and honest and not-guilty and definitely not like he slept in a field overnight, but.

Everyone is so keen to help. Old women spend awhile peering at the picture through all different angles of their spectacles; an older factory worker, who painfully reminds Liam of his dad, takes out his cigar to tell them he hasn't seen the kid before, but he wishes them the best of luck; a mother with three children gets the Moral Friendship Version of the story from Louis, and they've never seen the boy either but the kids have stars in their eyes.

The oldest girl grabs Louis's shirt sleeve as they go, says in a hushed voice, "Can I come with you and help?"

Thinking for a moment, Louis says, "I have an idea." Taking a strip of paper from Zayn's book, he scribbles a phone number and crouches to give it to her. "You ask your mum to call me if you see our friend, okay?"

She nods and takes it, face set in a serious expression. "Okay."

"In fact," Louis adds, "you could call to have a chat, if you wanted. Maybe if you discover some friends of your own."

Still very solemn, she nods. "Okay. Good luck."

"You too," he tells her, shaking her hand, and turning back, Liam sees her still tightly clasping the number in her small hands, watching them go.

"Between you and Harry," complains Zayn at Louis, "we'll have semi-adopted every child in Ireland by the time this is through."

"You've caught me," Louis sighs. "I had an ulterior motive all along."

 

They don't end up finding the boy there, but word travels very quickly, apparently, because a few people approach them on their way to the bus stop and wish them luck. Liam feels rather less like a disobedient and ruffled kid and more like a warrior on a quest.

 

The next town is very similar, but there's practically a crowd of people at the bus stop seeing them off when they leave.

"What's all that about?" asks a woman across the aisle from where they're sat. "Never seen such a fuss before."

"Sorry," Liam apologises. "Our fault."

The man sitting next to the woman snorts. "How'd you cause such a ruckus? You famous?"

Liam exchanges glances with the others; Louis gives him a little nod.

"Actually, we're looking for someone."

 

Word makes it around the bus in under five minutes. Zayn's sketchbook gets passed all the way along so everyone can see, resulting in a shower of compliments that make him blush very pink.

No one has seen him, but one girl in her early twenties takes a photo of the sketch with her phone. "I'll text it to some people," she says, "see if anyone knows him."

Some murmuring and nodding, and a couple of other people do the same thing.

By the time they reach the next town, it's far past sundown. Liam is starting to worry about sleeping in the open again, but one of the bus passengers approaches him.

"Where are you boys staying tonight?" she asks, her eyes sort of squinty. She's potentially the most Irish person Liam has encountered so far.

"Well, uhm," he says, and then decides to trust Zayn's magic and take a risk, "We don't have much money for accomodation, so we're not sure yet."

Upon hearing this, she says, "wait here," and pulls out her phone, dialling furiously. Scared to disobey, he waits.

The phone call takes awhile as she rings a few different people, calling in favours and retelling the story. It's exciting to watch how coordinated these people seem. Liam and Louis exchange thrilled grins.

"I can take two to a spare room," says the woman, hands on her hips. "In return for a few odd jobs done in the morning, and Mrs Walker can take one." She turns to her friend, waiting by the post. "Audrey?"

"Arthur and his wife can take one," answers the second woman, and the first mutters, "God bless Arthur."

Quickly looking between them, Liam realises this means splitting up. "Someone take Harry," he decides at the same time as Harry claims, "Louis and Zayn should go."

Zayn bites his lip and says, "It's okay, someone else pair up."

"No!" protest Liam and Harry together.

The argument is circular and ends with Louis and Zayn taking the spare room. "Because you're both so puny you couldn't fight someone on your own,“ Harry explains, initiating a group hug that has a few passers-by ''aww''ing.

"Be safe," says Liam as Zayn hands him and Harry their mobiles.

"You too," Louis mutters, and he and Zayn set off with the other woman. Louis is dragging his luggage, because he still can't carry it. It makes Liam smile for a moment.

 

The second woman drives Harry and Liam to the places they're staying, and Liam instantly trusts Harry's: a mother and a father in a great old house with potentially a million children. Harry looks afraid, and magic or not, Liam doesn't dare give him a kiss goodbye, so he tries to be as reassuring as possible with his eyes. "Keep your phone on," he says, "I'll see you in the morning."

 

Driving alone with the woman would probably feel awkward if he wasn't so exhausted. Resting his head on the window, Liam misses the other boys so much his stomach twists, his heartrate already increasing. Not having them within reach feels wrong, and he's reminded of why they're here, what they're doing.

It's a good thing he's got a reminder, because his phone has more missed calls from home than he wants to think about and texts from both his sisters, his mum, even his dad, who never texts him ever. He doesn't read them, but he finds his eyes prickly anyway.

As they arrive at the house, she leans back and says, "Hope you're not allergic to cats, I didn't even check."

Liam shakes his head. "I'm fine, thanks."

"God, that's a mighty relief." She gives him a smile. "Good luck, lad."

"Thank you," he says, nodding to her awkwardly and then getting out of the car.

 

The house is home to a very sweet old lady, her grandson, who is about thirty and seems fairly reclusive, and seven or eight cats. It's small, similar to Liam's home in some ways, but very distinctly Irish in others. The couch is long enough that, if he's lucky, his feet won't hang over the edge. He honestly couldn't have asked for any more.

"Is this okay?" asks the old woman, looking uncertain.

"It's great," he replies, and he means it. "Thank you so much."

 

When he's lying down under a thin sheet she insisted on giving him, eyelids slipping closed, his phone buzzes. Heart leaping into his throat, Liam prays it's not someone from home.

_Zayn._

Liam gives a full-body sigh of relief and opens the message. It's a video, and due to the area's less-than-ideal reception, it takes awhile to download.

He turns his volume down almost all the way, so he doesn't wake the old woman or her grandson, and plays it.

It's fumbly and pixellated, and he can hear Louis's Dramatic Voice as the camera pans around. "We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming for this very important announcement from the dashing and beautiful Zayn Malik."

Zayn appears on screen, and lasts all of two seconds before he breaks and starts giggling. "Nooo," wails Louis. "You can do it! Please, Harry's took _forever_ , we have to work fast."

Zayn forces himself, with what looks like a lot of effort, to a straight face, and says, "Reports are streaming in from all over about how much people love and miss Liam Payne. In fact, citizens everywhere are in misery. Take this letter, for example." He pulls up a sheet from Louis's planning folder. "It reads, ' _oh my god, even one night away from the funniest, sweetest, comfiest dude ever is too long, love you so much my teddy bear!_ '. That's signed Louis from Ireland. Here's another one. ' _My Liam is the strongest, best guy ever, and I will shed many a tear thinking of him whilst we are apart.'_ Huh. That one's signed Louis from Ireland, too. In fact, all these letters are. Uh. Back over to you, Right Side of the Bedroom."

The camera swings around and Liam jumps when he's met with a close-up of Louis's eyes. "Thanks for that exclusive report. I'm receiving a whole lot of letters, too, all addressed to Liam. Listen to this one. _'Liam is so brave and I totally think he looks cute in glasses. I wish he'd wrap me up in his warm, muscle-y arms and keep me there forever.'_ That's from someone called Zayn in Ireland. And this one, ' _What a champion! Liam is great at everything and almost never does anything wrong. 10/10 bloke!'_ This one's from... Zayn. In Ireland. In fact," he pulls an amazed expression, "they all are!"

"What do you think it means?" Zayn asks from behind the camera, laughter scrambling his words.

"It means," Louis mutters ominously, "That Liam Payne must be quite the guy. I bet his mates love him loads."

"I bet they also hope he sleeps well," agrees Zayn, "and want to remind him that they're going to see him in a few hours."

"Yes, quite right." Turning to the camera, Louis says, "G'night then, folks." And the clip ends.

Smiling so hard his cheeks can barely stand it, Liam puts his phone on his chest and stares at the ceiling for a moment. He can't help but press his hands to his face.

As he closes the video, he sees a text from Harry.

_From: Curly Lad_

_To: Liam_

_Louis and Zayn are ridiculous. Why us. (Goodnight. x)_

If possible, Liam smiles even harder, and taps a reply.

_From: Liam_

_To: Curly Lad_

_I know rightttt. Sweet dreams :)_

Putting his phone back down and still giggling a little, Liam goes to sleep.

 

Morning has Louis and Zayn up at their least favourite part of the day and doing their least favourite thing. That is to say, morning and work.

"I should have gone to the house Liam's at," grumbles Zayn as he washes up. "He'd be going on about gratitude and a good work ethic."

Louis gives a heavy sigh. "At least he wouldn't complain," he puffs, flicking his hair out of his eyes and trying to brush into the dustpan at the same time. It doesn't go very well.

This talk, this early banter, is well rehearsed between him and Zayn, like running dialogue for a play. Normally Louis hates things that won't change, but especially on a day like today, some consistency is quite nice.

They do some more odd jobs – Louis brings in the laundry, Zayn vacuums the small living room, they work together to move some old milk crates into the shed – and they're well rewarded by a nice big breakfast of eggs and tomatoes and toast. Louis eats as much as he feels is polite to do so, even though he could probably eat more. After the meal, he texts out the address of the rendesvous bus stop and thanks their host.

She wishes them well, thanks them for their help, and she also offers them a ride to the bus stop, which he civilly refuses. "We can walk."

As it turns out, walking is impossible because Louis can't lift his own suitcase for any extended period of time, so in the utmost embarrassment, he asks her if perhaps they could take her up on that after all.

She looks nothing but amused when she replies, "Of course."

 

On the way there, Zayn dozes off against the window, and Louis texts Harry.

_From: Harold_

_To: The Fit One_

_It's so busy with all these kids. Already watched Little Mermaid and made a baby cry. Please tell me you're nearly here._

_From: The Fit One_

_To: Harold_

_:) dont worry we'll be there in a few reckon you can live til then???_

_From: Harold_

_To: The Fit One_

_Sure bloody hope so. Currently being used as a climbing frame. x_

Louis smiles to himself, watches the outside rush by. He hopes that wherever he is, their boy is doing okay, that he knows they're coming for him.

 

Harry stands on the footpath outside the house, surrounded by a horde of children. One of the older ones stands very still amidst the screaming and running of his siblings, holding Harry's suitcase for him, and Louis is vividly reminded of Liam when they first met.

The mother hugs Harry and kisses both his cheeks, and he smiles and nods a lot to whatever she's saying, waves goodbye to the kids. "– You all!" he's saying, as he piles into the car next to Louis. "Byeee!"

"I think we're actually at risk," says Louis, hugging him hello, "of going back to England with dozens of adopted children."

"I hope so," Harry answers, very genuinely. Louis hides his smile in Harry's shoulder.

"You're both disgusting," mumbles Zayn from the front seat without opening his eyes. They don't dignify him with a response.

 

It's turning into quite an overcast morning by the time they reach the bus stop. Liam is already there in a white tank and his jeans, and he's happy as ever to see them.

"Thank you," he says to Louis and Zayn's host, after he's hugged them all hello. Louis doesn't ever want him to let go, but sadly, he can't carry his luggage, so Liam needs both his hands. "They can be a handful."

"They were great," she reassures him. "Bus soon?"

"Any minute." Liam goes around back and heaves their suitcases out of the back while they get out and Louis wakes Zayn.

It's only a minute or two between her leaving and the bus arriving. They all hug again and say hi and check that everyone's okay.

Louis's phone starts to buzz. He slips it out, eased by so much texting with the boys the night before, and his gut goes cold and scared.

"Louis?" Zayn sounds worried. "Louis, who is it?"

Louis breathes out shakily.

"Hang up, man," Harry adds, and Liam reaches for his phone.

"I want to talk to her," says Louis, and he snatches his mobile away, brain still failing to work properly in the face of the word ' _Mum_ ' on his contact screen. "Just for a moment."

"She's gonna try and bring you home," Zayn warns.

"It's okay," Louis snaps. "Be quiet, all of you." He answers it.

Silence. Then, tentative, he hears his mum on the other end. "Louis?"

"Yeah. Hi, Mum." His mouth is very dry.

"Oh, thank god –" he's pretty sure she's crying "– is everything okay, baby?"

"I'm fine, like the text said," he tells her, and at least he sounds calm. "I can't tell you where I am, but I'm comin' home soon, okay? Just on a bit of an adventure."

"I'm so angry," she tells him and sobs. "I'm so angry, but you're okay and I can't think about how angry I am."

"I'll explain," he promises, "Really soon, I'll – "

" _Now,_ Louis Tomlinson," she insists, "Tell me now."

She never uses his last name, and it bites at him in a weird and painful way. Louis feels Zayn's hand on his own, and when Zayn takes his mobile, Louis doesn't really try to stop him. A tap, and the call is over. A few more and Louis's phone is turned off. He can still almost see her face in his mind's eye, and then he starts to think about the girls, the baby and the twins and the eldest all worried, and –

"Bus is here," says Liam. Louis bites back the urge to tell him to shut up, because he doesn't really want to hurt him.

Zayn herds him on board. He pays for their tickets, says some stuff to Liam about asking around and sits them down with his arm around Louis's shoulders.

"Off," Louis growls. "Get off, I'm fine."

"We're nearly there," Zayn says in a low voice. "Everything'll be better."

"I don't care," Louis says pettily and tries to push him away, but he won't go.

Zayn watches him, eyes sad. "Louis," he says.

Louis tries, tries so so _so_ hard, but all of a sudden he breaks. Sobs wrench from his chest with no warning and tears, hot and ashamed, bubble up in his eyes. They carve lines down his cheeks and over his jaw, and now he's _crying_ and he can't _stop_ and he feels vulnerable and guilty and awful.

Zayn cups Louis's head and rubs his back; Liam leans over the chair and murmurs, "Love you."

Harry snaps, "What are you looking at?" at some guys who stare too much, and the anger in his tone makes Louis feel safe.

It's a few minutes before he gets himself together. He sits up, wipes his nose on his sleeve. "Right then," he says, and his voice only wobbles a small bit. He's never let himself go in front of them before, never ever, and he'd told himself he wasn't going to. All he can do now in the face of such sharp humiliation is to carry on like it didn't happen. "Right. We've got to make this happen fast, right? It can't take too much longer."

"We'll do our best. Like we have been doing," Zayn soothes.

"Next town is Mullingar," adds Liam, and his eyes are so concerned and warm that Louis has to look away. Having everyone's attention when you've been crying and you're all red and puffy-eyed and snotty... well, frankly, it's rubbish.

 

The next place is on the smaller side, the type of town where everyone recognises everyone else, even if they don't quite know them. The streets look like postcards and the houses are small.

They stop at the first store they find, and Louis marches in without hesitation and definitely without looking at the others, because he knows Liam still has his worried eyebrows and Harry reaches for his hand every time they meet eyes and Zayn keeps _gazing_ at him.

"Hello," says Louis, in his very best Quick and Honest voice. "We're looking for someone, we were wondering if you could help us?"

The woman behind the till is old and looks amazed. "Let me tell you!" she says, resting an elbow on the counter top. "I don't think we've had one of you British boys in this town for a good few years now, my lord."

Her accent is so thick it's almost like decoding as he listens to her, even though they've been in Ireland for days now.

"Not exactly a tourist hotspot, I s'pose," Louis agrees and then ploughs on. "I was wondering if you know this boy."

Holding up his sketchbook and forcing a small, awkward smile, Zayn's overall nerdiness cheers Louis up. He's even got his glasses on.

"Oh!" says the woman, surprising them all, because that's not the response they usually get. "Give me a moment t' think. Not sure of his name, but I've seen him. Sometimes when I'm out getting me eggs, he'll come walking by. Friendly lad. Blonde, isn't he?"

Louis's heartbeat has at least tripled in speed since she started talking. He turns to look at Zayn, and while Zayn's never exactly been an open book, it's easy for Louis to see the tells of shock on his face.

"Well," says Liam in a desperately calm tone, "if you could let him know there's some boys looking for him, next time you see him, that'd be. That'd be really good."  
"Course, m'boy," she assures him, with a smile. "Is that all?"

"Yes," says Liam, herding them towards the door. "Thanks. Sorry."

She laughs, "don't be sorry!" as they all but tumble from the shop.

Harry lets out a sigh that is both a breath and a curse. Zayn leans on his knees.

"Best keep looking," laughs Liam, after a moment, and they all weakly agree. Louis holds his hand for a second, and Liam lets him.

The rest of the morning races past; they tell every person they run into that they're looking for him, leaving no stone unturned. As they're debating whether or not to stop for lunch (Louis isn't really hungry, Harry claims to be starving to actual death, and Liam is evidently famished but, bless his heart, trying to pretend he's fine) a man approaches them.

"Are you the kids looking for the Horan boy?"

Louis whirls around, and Zayn already has his sketchbook up, picture on display.

"Yep, that's him," confirms the man. "He was looking for you, is all."

"Looking for us?" Liam says.

Louis is ready to sprint, climb a mountain. Adrenaline is lunch today. "Where did you see him?" he demands, bouncing on his toes.

"Li'l more than an hour past," answers the man. "He was at the corner shop. Seemed mighty excited to hear you lot were in town."

"Let's go," says Louis immediately, adding, "thank you!" to the man, who smiles wide.

"Anything to help a kid of Bobby's."

 

Obviously, by the time they reach the corner shop, the boy is long gone. The shopkeeper and his wife look at each other upon being asked where he was going.

"The bakery?" says the wife, like a question.

"Could be," agrees her husband, and it's all they have, so they next go to the bakery. Zayn is very out of breath, but no one wants to slow to anything less than a light jog.

 

"Oh, you've missed him by a long while," the baker tells them. "He was here at noon, and you know, he seemed very distracted! Makes sense now."

"Did he say where he was going?" Louis asks, and he's jogging on the spot now. His whole body feels like it might jitter away from him.

"To find you lot, I think!" she answers, smiling. "He probably went towards the center of town."

 

All doubts are removed when they reach the center of town. As they step into the square, Liam gives a little gasp, and Zayn murmurs, "Christ."

It's the place from their dream, alright. The red barn on the hill in the distance and the cobblestone walkway beneath their feet, and god, Louis hasn't got an ounce of patience left in him. They keep moving.

 

Frustration grows as they continue through town. Wherever they go, he's already been, and it's like chasing each other in circles. Louis is about to explode.

"Wait," says Liam as they come to the town square for what must be the third time. "Let's stop."

"Give up?" Louis can barely stand. His knees feel like jelly.

"No, no!" Even _Liam_ looks wiped. "Let's stay here and tell everyone this is where we are, this is where we're staying until he comes to us."

There's a semi-crowd gathered on the edges of the square, staring at them. Louis's blood and thoughts race.

"Yeah," he says, then louder, "You're right. We're waiting here for him." He turns to the crowd. "Hear that? We're going to wait here for him to come to us."

The crowd murmur amongst themselves; a teenager (who was looking at Liam before with stars in his eyes) takes off right away, hopefully to spread the word. Louis's calves ache, but he can't stop jiggling on his toes.

"Hey," says Zayn, putting his hand on Louis's shoulder.

"Hi," says Louis, anxiously. Zayn's hand is like a tiny piece of the earth, grounding him, like it always has been. When Louis stops and thinks, he can barely imagine how tired Zayn must be.

"I bet you've never walked that far before in your life," he teases, hoping his tone disguises the obvious question, the blinding _are you okay?_

"Hey, excuse you, that was no walk! That was at least a jog," Zayn retaliates, and Louis can hear his answer, can sense the _it will be worth it._ Zayn's hand says _we're here together_.

 

The group of people around them grows as the afternoon wears on, chattering and excited and waiting.

Liam, who was carrying both his and Louis's luggage all day, starts doing small laps around them, waiting. Harry talks to people, thanks and hugs and laughs and waits.

All Louis can think of is sitting outside in break, back against a brick wall, voice soft as Zayn breathed out smoke on the other end of the phone; perched in a tree, staring down at his feet as Liam confessed in broken words about how people had treated him in school when he was younger; early mornings waking up with Harry at the door, wanting nothing more or less than a hug. He wonders for a second why he loves these people so dearly, and then the answers come pouring back to him, too many at a time. Everything has led to now.

 


	11. Chapter 11

Liam is the first to see him. He gives a great shout, a cry of months and months of loving an empty place, and runs to wrap the boy in his arms.

Louis can't sprint fast enough, he nearly trips twice, and there he is... the boy is _THERE_. Liam is crying and the boy, who is bottle blonde and small and has the loveliest, bluest eyes and the warmest pinkest face, he's teary too, and Louis hugs him so tight he has no strength to do anything else. Harry crashes down upon them and Zayn stumbles after, falling right into the middle of it all.

"It's about god damn time," Louis breathes, and he means Zayn, but he also means everything, he means not being part of an unfinished puzzle any more.

"What's your name?" Harry asks, all abuzz and nuzzling closer, nearly pushing them all over as he does.

The boy clears his throat, blinks to properly clear his eyes. "Niall," he answers, in the sweetest, most honest, bloody Irish voice Louis has ever heard.

There's a pause before Zayn murmurs, "I can't pronounce that," and the boy, Niall, is the first to laugh.

 

The crowd gets photos and gives congratulations and there's love pouring from everywhere. The guy who was staring at Liam before comes up and shyly offers his number, and, almost accustomed by now, Liam smiles and says thank you. Louis keeps one hand on the boy – he's pretty sure they all do – as if the moment they let go of him he's going to evaporate, a dream once more. He's friendly and knows everyone by first name and laughs non-stop.

 

Niall's place is a tiny house on one of the streets further out, and they barely all fit in the living room. Louis has never been happier in his life.

Niall tells his father and brother the truth, right upfront. He explains the dream and says they had come to find him. The only sign that he's nervous is the way he grips the hem of Harry's shirt.

His father, who has kind eyes, simply replies with, "Well, I'll be."

When Niall hugs him, he hugs back, and when Niall says, "I love you," his dad says, "You too, of course."

 

The rest of the evening and well into the night, they sit in the paddock over from the house and talk and play football. Niall has bad knees, but he plays anyway, laughing the whole while. He fits into every bare space; fills silences with warm, honest talk; brightens every brief sadness with a laugh. He and Zayn stare at each other and smile non-stop, poke each other like ten-year-olds with a crush. He and Harry bond over golf of all things, which Louis didn't even know Harry played, and they're teasing each other ruthlessly by the end of the night, not once dropping their grins. He and Liam talk in slightly quieter voices than usual, but Louis hears the words ' _soulmates_ ' and ' _love_ ' and ' _cry_ ' all more than once – Niall hugs Liam like he's never ever going to let go.

Niall thinks Louis is the funniest person in the whole world. Louis thinks Niall might be the all-round best.

 

It's a lovely warm summer night, so they sleep in the paddock. They hold Niall in the middle of the group, loose but protected, and for the first time in nearly a year, Louis falls asleep with no ache, nothing eating away at him from the inside out. He knows it's cliche, it's so cliche that he wants to take the thought from his brain and put it on the ground and ferociously jump on it several times, but it was his first thought when they found him. Niall is like the last piece to their puzzle.

 

The next morning Louis wakes up with them all there, and it feels so good he goes straight back to sleep.

 

Waking again, he finds himself with Zayn on one side, Liam on the other. It's warm here now, and Niall and Harry have gone.

After pretending for a few seconds that his natural desire to lie down is stronger than his natural desire to not be left out, he gets up.

Niall and Harry are cooking pancakes in the kitchen, arms sort of around each other's waists, lips sort of on each other's cheeks, laughing so much Louis has a Liam-esque moment and worries about their safety. Then everything in his chest goes soft and gooey and he has to wait a moment before he can say _good morning_ without it coming out _I love you._

 

They all eat breakfast together, the boys and Niall and Niall's father, and Niall holds Zayn's hand under the table. There's no awkward stage, no questioning whether that's okay. Niall just seems to know what's okay. Zayn is looking at him like he hung the stars.

 

Mid-morning, Louis goes outside by himself and texts his mum.

_To: Mum_

_From: Firstborn_

_Coming home any day now love you_

She texts back in 10 minutes.

_To: Firstborn_

_From: Mum_

_You're grounded. Forever. And I'm still furious._

_Be safe._

It makes him smile, despite everything.

 

"Turns out getting home isn't a problem," laughs Niall (he laughs at everything, Louis loves him). "Look at what was in the paper this mornin'."

A photo of them, amidst what appears to be a crowd of every person in Mullingar, adorns the top half of the page. The article title is, _FRIENDSHIP AND COURAGE: THE MODERN DAY FAIRYTALE_ and Louis is already feeling embarrassed.

Harry proudly reads it aloud.

' _Yesterday afternoon, the entire town was gathered in the square to watch a most unusual, spectacular reunion._

_Louis (18 yrs) is leader of a small band of students from England who have been searching to find someone for what has apparently been several weeks._

_He and his friends Zane (17 yrs), Liam (17 yrs), and Harry (16 yrs) reportedly met our town's own Niall Horan (16 yrs) sometime last year, and their connection sparked them to come on a hunt for him all this time later._

_Luckily, they had a lot of help. The whole of Ireland has been rallied and moved by this story of friendship. People all over the country have been doing whatever they can to assist._

_"Some of the nicest young men I've ever met," said one spectator on the scene yesterday. "I was moved to tears when I witnessed their happiness [...] I felt like we had all done something good by helping it to happen [...] I wish them all the best."_

_A video of the event was recorded and can be found on youtube.com.'_

"People in town asked me for photos this morning," Niall adds, grinning. "I'm sure they'd be happy to help you get back to England."

"You'd have to come with us," Louis says immediately. "Even if it's just for a little while."

"As long as you're happy to have me," Niall answers, and they hug him so tight he complains for his ribs.

 

That afternoon, Louis tells them what he wants to do.

Harry frowns. "Are you sure? You know that's forever, right?"

To Louis's surprise and joy, Liam answers, "I'm sure he's thought about it, mate," and puts a hand on Louis's knee. "If you want to, I think you should."

Niall shrugs, gives a little smile and adjusts his guitar in his lap. He taught himself to play guitar, and he's modest about it, but Louis thinks it's incredible. "D'you need us to come? Hold your hand 'n' all."

Louis bites his cheek and says, "Something like that."

 

The preparation is potentially worse than the pain is going to be. Louis does his best to stay still – never one of his strong points – and Niall sits down in one of the chairs in the corner. The receptionist had looked up and been surprised. "Are you all having one done?" she asked, and Louis shook his head. "Just me." She had gone to show him through and seemed more surprised when they all followed, but didn't attempt to stop them.

The small studio is cramped with all five of them ( _five_ is quickly becoming Louis's favourite number, perfectly balanced, five cars, five chairs, five people in the group photo Bobby took of them in the Horan's backyard yesterday) and Louis is having trouble breathing.

"You scared?" Niall asks.

Louis snorts. "Course I am," he replies. "It's scary."

"Don't think about it," the artist encourages him. "Watch your friend, don't worry about me."

Louis takes another deep breath. "We'll still be friends if I vom on you, right?" he checks. Niall laughs and squeezes Louis's shoulder.

"Of course, bro. Love you."

The artist starts working. It bloody _hurts_ , it hurts like hell, but Harry and Zayn hold his hands on either side and Niall and Liam talk him through it. Liam is himself, as always, saying that it will be over soon and that Louis is being very brave and doing very well. Niall keeps telling him, "Oh my god, it looks sick. It's so cool, you're gonna love it." Louis is too scared to look, because the fiery pain is enough without the actual image of a needle jittering in and out of his skin, but he manages a weak smile.

The process feels long but in reality isn't. Louis finally lets his shoulders slump when the tattoo artist pulls back and says, "Done! Have a look."

It's just a small one, it's not a big deal. He grins, still, at the sight of the little cross on his ankle.

"Any significance?" the artist asks, as she begins to gauze it.

"It's to keep him steady," Harry tells the tattoo artist.

"Bolted to the ground," Liam nods along.

The artist smiles. "Don't think he'll need much more of that," she says, taking off her gloves. "He's got you lads, after all."

 

Getting Niall packed and saying goodbye to his family isn't exactly easy, but the journey back is smooth. People are happy to carpool them from town to town where they can, and in Dublin they're contacted by a magazine who heard their story and wishes to offer them the money for train tickets home in return for an interview. It's weird and Louis isn't sure he likes it, but besides that they make it back with no problems at all.

 

Their families are waiting at the station. They jointly wrote a group text to organise the basics before turning off their phones on the train. Other explanations had been postponed til they could do it face-to-face, but Louis is wishing now that they had done it all in one go.

There's a lot of tears and a lot of anger. One of Louis's little sisters refuses to speak to him. His mum is so confused that she comes across happy, sad, and angry all at once. He hugs her for a long time and says sorry more than he he ever has before.

Zayn can't even look at his father, approaching them with his head bowed and his lower lip trembling, but then he's pulled into an embrace by both his parents. Louis watches in relief as Zayn hugs back, says, "I hope you know there's nothing in the world," and here his voice shakes, "that means more to me than you."

"We wish we could have helped," soothes his mum, and his sisters gather around as well, holding him tight (even though one of them hits him gently).

Liam wells up as soon as his family are within his line of vision, and by the time he reaches them, he's dropping the suitcases and crying properly. His mother's attempted stern face disappears, and she lets him rush to her, holds him like he's a child, and she's a crying mess, which doesn't surprise Louis in the least. Liam's dad is teary, too. He guesses it runs in the family.

Carefully detangling himself from his own mother, Louis approaches Mrs Cox. Harry stands in front of her, quivering like mad.

"If anyone should be sorry," says Louis, quite clearly, "it's me. I completely corrupted your son and I'm ready for everyone here to ground me for forever. Take out the rubbish all around for the rest of my life and all that. I am fully adopting responsibility." He puts an arm around Harry and squeezes his shoulders.

"I should ban you from ever speaking to him again," Mrs Cox says to Louis, face determinedly solemn.

"I know," he says, as honest as he can possibly be, "and I'm really sorry, Anne. We just didn't see any other options."

If it's any indication of how it ends up, Niall goes home with Harry.

 

Lying in bed the day after, still revelling in _having_ his own bed again, Louis calls Liam.

"Dinner at mine on Friday?" Louis offers. "Mum wants all your parents to come, too. She says we have some talking to do."

"Sure. I'll ask at least."

"How are they?" Louis asks.

"They've cried all day," answers Liam, sounding so tired and so relieved. "They'll get there."


	12. Epilogue - Six Weeks Later

Zayn's sitting on the swingset with a cig in his mouth when Louis arrives. They smile at each other for a long moment.

"Purple," says Zayn, gesturing to Louis's ring.

"Today I reckon that means lucky," Louis replies.

Zayn snorts. He catches Louis's hand, presses a kiss to his knuckles.

In a few minutes, the others will arrive and they'll all head to put Niall on his train back to Ireland. They'll miss him, but they'll survive.

In a few weeks, school starts again, for all of them except Louis, now graduated. Zayn's glad the separation ache is gone, that it's served its purpose; he can't imagine doing another school year with that over his head.

In a few years, Louis will go down on one knee with a real ring in his hand, and Zayn will say yes. A few more years and Harry will have bought a house big enough for all of them, and one by one, they‘ll move in.

Right now though, Zayn is watching the sunset catch Louis's eyelashes, feeling the cold of Louis's ring against his cheek, and he isn't too worried about anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on tumblr at gentlezayn.tumblr.com!


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